


A Surfeit of Fluff

by aladyindarkshadows



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, DCBB, Dcbb 2017, Knitting, M/M, Mechanic Dean, SO MUCH FLUFF, Salesperson Castiel, Texting, so many puns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-12
Updated: 2017-10-12
Packaged: 2019-01-15 11:01:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 35,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12319719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aladyindarkshadows/pseuds/aladyindarkshadows
Summary: Surfeit: (noun) an excessive amount.Losing a bet to Charlie means Dean has to take up knitting for a month. Cue the meet cute with the really hot Michaels employee Castiel, and Dean may not be as straight as he wants to think.  Confusion and cluelessness, mistaken assumptions, and horrible puns all follow.  Add in the usual merry band of Supernatural characters, the fall season, and you’ve got an all human AU that’s nothing but a surfeit of fluff.





	A Surfeit of Fluff

**Author's Note:**

> This fic has been one wild ride. There were so many points when I thought I'd have to drop out of the DCBB, but I made it. Huge thank yous go to my beta, [boyswithbowsandarrows ](http://boyswithbowsandarrows.tumblr.com/), and my artist [Busy Squirrel](https://bs-acorns.tumblr.com/).
> 
> [Link to art](https://bs-acorns.tumblr.com/post/166306754658/title-a-surfeit-of-fluff-author-ladydemacabre)
> 
> Disclaimer: Views/opinions expressed by characters in this story do not necessarily reflect the views/opinions of the author.

Stupid Charlie. Stupid bet. The whole thing was stupid. Including him.

He should have known just from that particular glint in Charlie’s eye not to agree so readily. But it had seemed so simple, such a surefire win. He should have known. How many times had he told the subjects of Moondoor never to underestimate their queen? Sure, she was perky and geeky and seemingly innocent, but the girl had unfathomable wiles behind that cute facade. Why couldn’t he have listened to his own advice?

Did he mention this was stupid?

The unfortunate conclusion to the stupidity was that Dean lost the bet and now had to throw himself on his brother’s mercy for help. And hope that the teasing didn’t last too long.

“Hey, Sam,” Dean called as he opened the front door of his brother’s house. “You home?”

“Yeah, in the kitchen,” Sam shouted back.

From the front door, Dean could only see down the long front hall into the living room. As soon as he reached that room, the house opened up and the kitchen was just to the right with a dining room space at its left end. It wasn’t a huge mansion, but the house was large enough for a growing family. Rumor was that Dean would eventually get a little niece or nephew, but there wasn’t any sign of an official announcement yet.

Sam was pulling fruit and things out of his refrigerator and making a pile on the counter. Given that the blender was also sitting out on the counter, it didn’t take a detective to guess that Sam was making one of his healthy smoothies or something. Dean didn’t like to use the words smoothie or shake when it included some weird ass lettuce in it, but until there was a better word to fit the disgusting looking abominations his brother drank, smoothie was the only option. And he had to remember that it was weird crap like this that brought Dean here in the first place. So he wouldn’t make fun of his brother. This time.

“What brings you by?” Sam asked.

“Lost a bet to Charlie,” Dean replied.

“Seriously, Dean? Didn’t you learn anything from Garth last month?”

“Yeah, yeah, dumb idea making bets with the redhead who claims to be in Gryffindor but has a Slytherin streak a mile wide. I know. But… I need your help. And you can’t tell Dad.”

“Uh huh.” Sam waited expectantly while filling the blender with his unholy combination of fruit and vegetables and yogurt.

“I have to take up some girly hobby for a month.”

Sam stopped dropping leaves into the blender. “A what now?”

“A _girly_ hobby. For a month.”

Sam rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Do I want to know just what sort of bet you lost?”

“That’s not important. Can you help me out?”

“I’m not sure what you’re asking. What do you mean by girly hobby?”

“Charlie wants me to do some sort of frou-frou hobby that goes against everything manly and decent. It’s to embarrass me, get me in touch with my feminine side, I don’t know. Ask her. But I don’t know anything about that shit.”

“And you want me to… what?”

“I don’t know. You’ve gotta have some ideas.”

“Because _I’m_ a girl?” Sam crossed his arms with a frown.

“Well, now that you mention it, Samantha…” Sam’s frown deepened to full on pissed-off bitch-face, so Dean changed tactics. “Sorry. No, it’s because you’re married. And you know a lot about things that I don’t. Are you gonna make me beg?”

Sam grinned. “Tempting, but no. So, some sort of embarrassing hobby? Hmm.” He turned on the blender for a minute as he thought about it. “Scrapbooking? Cake decorating? Floral arrangements? Jewelry so you can finally make that friendship bracelet you’ve always wanted?”

Dean groaned.

Sam chuckled while pouring his drink into a glass. “You know, the easy and obvious thing would be to join one of my yoga classes.”

“Yeah, I thought of that too, but her majesty nixed it right away. Said that getting bendy and staring at chick’s asses wasn’t enough to fill the ‘girly’ part of the requirement. I think there might have been some rant about feminism and gender enlightenment, but you know how Charlie babbles.”

“She is fond of her rambling tangents. And she has a point. If you’d join a yoga class like I’ve been offering, you’d see that not all the participants are women. A lot more men are into it than you think. And you could use the exercise with all that crap you eat.”

“Thanks, Dr. Oz, I’ll pass. Can we get back to my problem?”

“Jess’ll be home in an hour. Maybe she’s got an idea or two. You should stay for dinner anyway.”

“Just as long as it’s not some vegan tofu loaf or whatever, sure.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “We don’t… it’s chicken with potatoes and salad. That acceptable?”

Dean just shrugged.

The brothers spent the rest of the late afternoon talking about work. They had a lot in common when it came to stories of “interesting” customers seeing as Sam was a trainer and instructor at a gym and Dean was a mechanic at a garage. The levels of idiot out in the world were incredible. How does someone confuse diesel and gasoline? It never ceased to amaze him. And there were always new stories from Sam about his #1 Fan™. He was getting so close to filing a restraining order on that crazy Becky.

Eventually Jessica got home from her job at the hospital pharmacy, and conversation turned to her work day as they all did the meal prep. Dean might not always approve of his brother’s food choices, but he loved how the kitchen was really the heart of the home. Living alone, he didn’t get that feeling in his own apartment.

It wasn’t until halfway through dinner that things turned back to why Dean was spending time with them this particular evening.

“A girly hobby?” Jess repeated with a smirk. “So let me guess: you’re looking for something that fulfills that brief, but doesn’t make you feel like your balls are in a purse?”

“Essentially,” replied Dean.

“Okay. Then you should try knitting.”

“Knitting?”

“Uh huh. Your average tough guy will think it’s a womanly thing to do, but there are some pretty badass guys out there who know how to knit. Plus, you don’t have to make frilly doilies or whatnot. You could make a couple scarves, a sweater, a blanket, some socks. Whatever.”

Dean thought about it for a minute.

“Didn’t they use knitting to look like chainmail in Monty Python?” Sam said. “I’m pretty sure I remember that from somewhere.”

“Huh, if it was in the making-of documentary, don’t ask me,” said Dean. “I fell asleep when Charlie wanted to watch it. Monty Python’s awesome, but there are limits.”

“Maybe it was that. But really I want to say that someone told me about it. I can’t remember.”

“You’re just a whole family of nerds, aren’t you?” said Jess. She playfully ruffled his hair while Sam gave her one of his longsuffering bitch-faces.

“And who are these badass guys you know that knit?” Sam asked.

“Ryan Gosling,” she replied.

“Is _not_ badass,” Dean interrupted.

“Okay, no,” Jess agreed. “And nor is Ashton Kutcher, who also knits. But I think George Lucas, Russell Crowe, Keifer Sutherland, Christopher Walken, and Kurt Cobain count as badass, right?”

The brothers both nodded. But Sam was still puzzled. “Now who’s the nerd? You know this just off the top of your head?”

“No,” Jess said with a grin, “but Google does.” She pulled her phone out from under the table and handed it to her husband.

He scrolled through the page she was looking at. “Okay, a lot of celebrities knit, male and female. Although, some of these may be for photoshoots and not proof that they actually knit.”

“The internet doesn’t always tell the truth, right, I know. But look, it doesn’t make these guys look any less macho or impressive. I think you should give it a go, Dean. Think of how hot you’ll look. Honey, show him the pic of Russell Crowe. Oh! Maybe you’ll meet your soulmate at the craft store.”

Sam snorted a short laugh and handed Dean the phone.

Dean couldn’t tell if his sister-in-law was making fun of him, being serious, or a combination of both. But he had to admit that Crowe made knitting look really sexy. And in a totally not gay way. Because Dean wasn’t. Gay, that is. And this bet had nothing to do with that. At all.

“Sure, why not? I’ll learn how to knit,” Dean decided. “How hard can it be?”

… Battling the Rabbit of Caerbannog hard, that’s how hard, Dean thought as he stood in the craft store late the next Monday evening. There was so much crap in here. Glittering aisles of beads and paper. Aisles of tiny bottles of paint and fluffy feather boas. There was an absolute burning jungle of plastic plants and fall flowers filling the middle of the store. Plus, Halloween decorations lined just about every inch of display space. How was he supposed to find the yarn? What he wouldn’t give for a Holy Hand Grenade of Antioch just to throw himself on.

“Hello, welcome to Michaels. How can I help you?” a deep voice asked.

“Uh. Yarn. Knitting stuff. You got that?” Dean asked while still staring at a display of garishly bright green, purple, and orange foam meant to be cut and glued into monster masks.

“The back-left corner of the store.”

Dean finally turned to look at the helpful salesperson. His breath just about stopped when he saw the man with the dark, ruffled sex hair and impossibly blue eyes. Damn, this was one hot dude. Not that Dean was gay. No, he just appreciated the male form more than some. C’mon, Dr. Sexy and Harrison Ford are undeniably hot to anyone with eyes, right? Plus that one guy, Aaron, he fooled around with for a week while Sam was off at college, but that totally didn’t count. Everyone experiments in college. Sure, he wasn’t the one in college… He’s not gay, okay!

Anyway, where were we?

The blue eyes stared back. Then they squinted questioningly. “Would you like me to show you?”

“Uh, sure. Do you know anything about… um… uh…?”

“Knitting? Yes. Is this your first time trying it?”

“Yeah. Lost a bet and had to choose a new hobby.”

The man nodded. “You made an excellent choice. I find knitting very relaxing and rewarding. Do you have any ideas about a project you might like to start with?”

“How hard is knitting chainmail?”

The man laughed. “That depends. Knitting with metal, I imagine, is quite difficult. But knitting yarn to look like chainmail? That’s one of the most basic stitches.”

“Cool.”

They had now walked to the back of the store and were looking at the rows and rows of yarn.

“Shit,” Dean muttered. He was overwhelmed by all the colors. Then he saw signs saying “acrylic” and “wool” and had no idea what any of it meant. Just what had he gotten himself into?

“Why don’t I help you put a few things together to get started?”

“Thanks, uh…”

“Castiel.”

“Dean.”

Castiel grabbed a handbasket from somewhere and began to fill it with a few oblong balls of yarn (which he called skeins), some knitting needles of varied sizes, and a book on knitting for beginners. Dean didn’t pay much attention and just nodded along with whatever Castiel chose. Really Dean spent most of the time trying not to stare at the guy’s beautiful neck. And yeah, necks can be hot. The way it curves to the shoulder, the moving muscles, and oh god that stubble trailing down the front. But Dean’s still not gay! He wasn’t checking out the guy’s ass, so that’s totally not gay.

“This should get you started,” Castiel said when he was ringing up the purchases, “but if you need some help, there’s a knitting group that meets here one Wednesday every month. The next meeting is this week. Let me grab you the flyer.” He was gone before Dean could stop him. A group class was taking this whole thing a step too far. After all, Charlie never said Dean had to get good at the hobby; he just had to do it for a month. Castiel returned and bent over to write something on the paper. He slipped it into the bag with the book and yarn. “Good luck with the new hobby, Dean.”

“Uh yeah, thanks for the help, Castiel.” He gave a little wave as he took his bag and backed up into a passing woman’s cart. Mumbling apologies, Dean quickly fled the store.

Once home in his apartment, Dean opened the bag and pulled out the book to see what he’d gotten himself into. The flyer came fluttering out with it. When Dean picked it up he looked at what Castiel had written.

_Dean, It was great meeting you. If you need any help with the new hobby, give me a call. ;D (###) ###-#### Castiel_

“Huh,” Dean muttered to himself. He thought about those eyes, the five o’clock shadow, the messy hair, and that neck he wanted to grab as he kissed the guy.

Okay, maybe he was a little bit gay.

Shut up.

* * *

 

Thursday afternoon, a bubbling chime came from Dean’s computer. It was Charlie; she was pretty much the only one who Skyped him since she lived so far away.

Charlie was a four-hour drive down in Tulsa. They met LARPing a few years ago when Moondoor was still in Michigan. Dean had helped her plan the campaign that ultimately won her the crown. It wasn’t long after that when Moondoor was shut down—a combination of growing expenses because the park rent was increasing, and the creator moving on to other projects. But that didn’t stop the queen. Charlie worked with a few others on an online campaign to get Moondoor going again. Nothing could stop a determined Charlie, so the new kingdom of Moondoor now met in Wichita. A happy ending considering it was conveniently closer to both of them. Outside of Moondoor, Charlie was the little sister he never wanted, but was so glad he had.

Well, usually glad.

“What’s up, handmaiden?” Charlie asked brightly when the video call opened.

“I hate you so much,” Dean grumbled. He sat with his laptop on the kitchen table.

“Oh dear. What hobby did you end up picking?”

“Knitting.” He spat out the word as if it were the vilest of curses.

She gave a slight laugh. “Oh, come on. It can’t be that—”

“Hard?” Dean interrupted. “This is travelling to Mount Doom and all the giant eagles are extinct hard.”

There was a brief pause. “I was going to say bad, but you paint an excellent word picture. Bad, hard, in this context I think we can accept them as synonyms. Mmm, cinnamon. I should totally go to the mall and get—”

“Stop thinking about cinnamon rolls,” Dean snapped.

She pouted. “Fine. What do you want me to do, Winchester? You know the terms of the bet. If knitting is too hard just switch to scrapbooking. You passed kindergarten, right? Because all of that cutting and pasting can get a bit rough.” Her voice had taken on a babyish tone.

Dean glared silently.

“Have you tried YouTube tutorials? Or a local class?” Charlie asked, trying to be helpful instead of mocking. “I can guarantee you that even in a little podunk place like Lawrence there are people who could teach you how to knit. Plus, think of all the cool stuff you could make! Really, I thought you’d go with sewing and get crazy whipping up some awesome cosplay stuff.”

Dean continued to glare, but then mumbled something out of the side of his mouth.

“What was that?” Charlie demanded.

“I already know how to sew,” he said.

“Seriously?”

“A little. Buttons, letting out seams, using stolen motel sheets to make a Halloween costume for your brother. Trying to make ends meet, you learn some practical skills. Where do you think I got my ceremonial garb for Moondoor?”

“I’m impressed. Dean Winchester, master tailor and petty thief. I’ll have to add those on the list after handmaiden.”

“Not all of us can be queen and cyber felon.”

“Well, felon’s a bit strong.”

“Tell it to the jury, Bradbury.”

“Yeah, yeah. Apart from the knitting, how’s it going? Any juicy Lawrence gossip to share?”

“Like you don’t know it already. You text Sam all the time, and he gossips like a New York socialite.”

“I can’t argue with that. But c’mon! What’s up with _you_?”

Apart from the bet, there had been one thing looming in his mind. Someone drop dead handsome and who had been featuring in some pretty NC-17 rated dreams he’d been having. He’d seen good looking guys before, but nothing like this had happened. Maybe when he started watching Dr. Sexy. But too much late-night TV with beer covered ice cream will do that.

“Am I gay?”

“Whoooah, boy, I did not see that one coming,” she said with eyes stunned wide open. “You wanna catch me up on why you think you might be gay? I mean, I kind of figured there was a closet somewhere in your life, but like Narnia deep.”

“When I went to Michaels, there was this guy…” Dean babbled out the whole story from locking eyes, to picking yarn, to the phone number written on the flyer. “And now I can’t stop thinking about him. We barely said anything to each other. He was just the sales guy that helped me with the stuff and gave me his number. I have a hard enough time trying to figure out if I’m gay, how do I find out if he is?”

“Dean, breathe. It’s okay. Giving you his number is kind of a good sign he’s gay enough to be into you. And haven’t you been listening to my lectures on proper LGBTQ nomenclature? There’s more than just gay and not gay.”

“And?” He’d never really listened to the lectures. To him, everyone was their own person with their own traits and interests, and why did everyone have to be concerned with giving things a label. You like what you like, you want what you want. He just never thought he’d want a dude like this.

“To be honest, I’ve always thought you were bisexual. I remember watching Labyrinth with you.”

“It’s right there! How can anybody not stare at it!”

Charlie laughed. “Stare, yes; drool, no. You can’t tell me you wouldn’t have jumped David Bowie in that outfit. If I put it in your terms, you’re a little bit gay as long as the guy’s your type. And if I had to describe your type, dreamy Michaels guy fits. Dark hair, blue eyes, you’re kind of predictable.” Her voice then turned higher with excitement. “And he can help you with your knitting problem, so it’s like it’s meant to be.”

“So what do I do?”

“Alright, here are some important coming out of the closet tips. Be honest, be yourself, and take things at a pace you’re comfortable with.”

“That sounds like the advice you always force on me about dating.”

“Ding, ding, ding! We have a winner! Guess what Winchester, dating is dating. There’s no secret to being gay. Give blue-eyes a call and see what happens. And then send me all the deets!”

Dean rolled his eyes.

“I gotta run, but good luck, dude!” She signed off with her usual Star Trek salute.

She was right. Dating was dating, and he needed help with this damn knitting. Maybe he was reading too much into this and they’d just be friends. Yeah, friends. He could always use a new friend in his life. A really hot friends with a neck Dean wanted to get his mouth on. Okay, maybe they’d be more than friends. He’d never know if he didn’t call. But the thought of actually calling Castiel left Dean completely tongue-tied. Flirting with a girl he had a crush on was easy. He’d just jump right in, give her the Winchester charm, and by the end of the conversation he’d have her number and plans for a date all set up. Why was he so nervous about doing that with a dude?

He stared from his seat at the kitchen table toward the couch. On it lay that damn book and the pile of knots formerly known as yarn. Was he really going to be beaten by that?

To hell with it. He grabbed his phone and punched in Castiel’s number.

It rang long enough for Dean to believe that this was all a mistake and he should hang up, but not long enough for him to actually do that.

“Hello?”

Oh god that voice. It was even deeper over the phone. It wasn’t James Earl Jones, Barry White, or Thurl Ravenscroft deep, but it still hit the right pitch to make his face heat up.

“Uh, Castiel? This is Dean. From the store. With the yarn and knitting. I don’t know if you remember… but um, you wrote your number.” Good god, Winchester, why are you babbling like the village idiot?

“I did, I remember, and I was hoping you’d call. How’s the knitting going?”

Dean sighed. “A complete disaster. I mean, it looks so easy in the book. I follow the instructions, try to copy what the pictures are doing, but it just comes out this tangled mess of chopsticks and yarn vomit!”

There was a sympathetic chuckle. “Yes, I remember when I was first learning.”

“Can you help?”

“Of course. Where would you feel most comfortable meeting?”

Dean scrambled to think of somewhere, but his brain wasn’t working right. He latched onto the first place that came to mind. “My place… um, if it’s okay with you. I don’t know, whenever you’re free.”

“I’m not working this Saturday.”

“Okay. I’ve got just a morning shift so we could do after lunch. Around two sound good?”

“Sounds perfect.”

Dean gave Castiel his address and the call ended.

Oh god. He’d just given his address to the total stranger he was crushing on. Dean hit his head on the table.

If he wasn’t panicking before, he was panicking now. He got up and decided to deal with the panic the only way he knew how. Cleaning and baking. They were his two go-to methods for handling stress. His apartment was always fairly neat, but after a day of stress cleaning it would be neat, clean, and most likely completely sterile.

* * *

 

Somehow, Friday came like normal. Saturday was a different story. He’d had some trouble falling asleep Friday night, so by the time his alarm was going off he was too tired to immediately get out of bed. Playing the snooze button game ended with him running late out the door.

Bobby didn’t say anything about Dean’s tardiness, but after Dean had dropped the same tool five times, and then dozed off under the engine of a Ford Focus, he came over to have a word.

“Hey, idjit!” Bobby yelled.

Dean’s eyes snapped open and his head jerked up. His forehead banged against metal painfully. He moaned, “Shit.”

“That’s what you get when you fall asleep on the job,” Bobby grumbled. “You feelin’ alright, son?”

Dean slid out from under the car. “Didn’t sleep well last night.”

“Stating the obvious. Not getting sick, are you?”

“No, sir, just nervous. I have a sort of date this afternoon. I don’t know.”

“Never known you to be nervous about a girl before.”

Dean shrugged, “It’s different this time.”

So much for following Charlie’s advice about being honest. But hey, if he wasn’t ready to announce to all and sundry that he was also a little into dudes, then _that_ fit with Charlie’s rules too.

“Get some coffee, clear the cobwebs, and get back to work,” Bobby said gruffly, but not unkindly.

Dean nodded and followed Bobby’s instructions. He had a couple hours and a Nissan that the owner wouldn’t give up on (though it was long past time to cut his losses and just get a new car that wasn’t a cheapass Nissan) before he would be going home to the thing which may or may not be a date.

Since calling Castiel, Dean had been turning that thought over and over in his head. On one hand, this was just a guy being friendly, helpful, and sharing a mutual interest. On the other, he’d given Dean his number and said he was hoping that Dean would call. Dean could barely pick up on a woman’s signals; how was he supposed to understand a guy’s? Would he give his number to a customer to call him about car problems and it still be platonic? Probably. Maybe. Maybe not. If only his mind would shut up and focus on the car in front of him.

By luck or the grace of some god of cars, Dean finished his work without further incident. He’d already been lucky that it was just Bobby and him working that day. Any of the other guys would have given him a lot of grief over being nervous about a date. And if Jo had been in, he’d never have heard the end of it. She would have hounded him with questions about why it was different. What was so special about this date. Or not a date. That’s why Dean was nervous. What was he going to be walking into?

Back at his apartment, Dean went into cleaning mode again. First was showering and scrubbing off any grease. Then there was wiping down the bathroom to make sure it didn’t look like he’d just had a shower. After that came lunch and washing the dishes by hand because just sticking them in the dishwasher wasn’t distracting enough. He wiped down the already clean countertops. When he started wiping down shelves in the refrigerator, he knew he had gone a bit far.

A little before two, he heard the knock at the door. Rubbing his hands on his pants, Dean walked out to open it.

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel said with a smile. Dean had thought Castiel was hot before, wearing the Michaels’ tee and loose slacks. Now he was downright sinful in jeans, a buttoned shirt with the buttons undone around the collar, and a trenchcoat like Columbo. He carried a canvas bag in one hand.

“Hey, Castiel,” Dean greeted in return. “C’mon in.”

Dean wondered what the other man would think of his tiny apartment. The tight L-shaped foyer led around to the main living space and galley kitchen. The L wrapped around a small closet acting as a pantry and laundry room off the kitchen. At the opposite end of the living room was a single chair’s worth of patio trying to be a balcony. The rest of the apartment was his bedroom and the bathroom that connected to the hall and his room.

“Can I take your coat? It’s not much, but it’s… not really home.”

“Oh?” Castiel inquired. He pulled off the coat. “You don’t like living here? It looks great.”

Dean shrugged as he set the coat over a kitchen chair. The dining set—if it could be called that—was mismatched and from a thrift store. The fraying couch belonged to his brother before Sam and Jess bought their house. There were a couple posters on the walls for art, a bookshelf with worn paperbacks, a cabinet with DVDs, and a large flatscreen dominating one wall.

“It’s an okay place, suits my needs, but I guess when I think of ‘home’ I think more about my brother’s place. Home is where the heart is, and all that, and his place has a lot of heart. Anyways, make yourself comfortable. Take a seat. Can I get you anything to drink? I’ve got an apple pie I made the other day.”

“Water’s fine. Maybe later for the pie.”

“Sure thing.” Dean grabbed two glasses with water from the kitchen and set them down on the coffee table in front of the couch. Castiel was sitting there and pulling yarn and needles out from his bag.

“How’d you get on with the book?” Castiel asked.

Dean pulled out the tangled mess he had hid away in a decorative bin meant for magazines. Castiel blinked, but he didn’t laugh or tease him. He grabbed his supplies and held them so Dean could see what he was doing.

“The best way to start is just with some practice squares. This yarn is just a cheap acrylic, worsted weight—that’s the thickness of the yarn—but it works well for learning. It’s easy to see, and the fibers don’t split easily. We’re going to start with casting on. There’s several techniques, but this is one I think is the easiest. You see how I’m wrapping the yarn around the needle? Do you want to grab your needles and try with this other skein?”

Now Dean blinked. He had been caught up staring at Castiel’s hands and thinking all sorts of things about those hands that didn’t involve yarn. Maybe a sturdy yet comfortable rope, but not yarn. Dean cleared his throat, shook those images out of his head, and picked up the needles and yarn.

It was so much better working with Castiel than following images in a book. Seeing how to hold the needles in motion let Dean get a better grip on his own, and he didn’t feel like he was poking chopsticks at irritating strands of fluff like he had before. Castiel moved slow enough to follow, and had no problem repeating a step until Dean was comfortable with it.

“Okay, now that you’ve got your first row cast on, we’re going to start with the simplest stitch. Every row, you just knit and it forms the garter stitch.”

“The what?” Dean asked dumbly.

“When knitting, you knit.” Castiel picked up a loop of yarn from one needle on the end of the other, wrapped the free yarn around it to make a new loop, and moved the needles to push off the old loop so the two needles were connected by the work below. “Or you can purl.” Again, he picked up one loop of yarn from the first needle, but it was from a different direction, and again there was movement to get it to the second needle. “There’s also yarning over, increasing, decreasing, dropping stitches, and other things, but we can get to that later. Would you like to see the difference between knitting and purling again?”

“Yeah.”

Castiel repeated the strange actions slowly. “Right now, you’ll just do rows of knitting. When you do that on a square it makes the garter stitch. That’s the one that looks like chainmail if it’s loose enough.”

“Wait. That’s it?”

“Yes. If you do one row knitting and the next purling, and so on, that makes the stockinette stitch. That’s one you’ll see used on just the average, boring sweater.”

“And it’s that simple?” Dean moved his own needles slowly, but it was actually working.

“The trick is making sure your tension stays even. Otherwise the start of the project will be a different size to the end. Plus, things get a little more complicated when shaping it into more than just a square.”

“Makes sense,” Dean agreed. The tension was something he was already seeing as an issue. He focused more on keeping the loops even. But in focusing on pulling the yarn the right amount, disaster struck. “Oh shit. One of the loops fell off and now it’s gone.”

Castiel reached into his bag again. “That happens all the time. If it hasn’t pulled out, you can just pick it back up on the needle. But that one has dropped, so you can use a crochet hook to pull it back through. You see that little loop sticking up there? Take this, hook the yarn, and pull it through.”

Tentatively, Dean did as he instructed. “Thought you said dropped stitches were for later.”

“When meant intentionally in a pattern, yes. Accidently comes up more often when you’re starting out.”

After a couple rows and seeing that Dean was comfortable on his own, Castiel set aside the practice square and pulled another project from his bag. Dean stopped his work to stare at the four spikes with what appeared to be the toe and start of the foot of a sock dangling from them.

“What the hell are you doing to that sock?” Dean asked.

“It’s called knitting in the round,” Castiel said. “Another technique for another day.”

Dean watched in fascination as Castiel worked on the sock. How those powerful hands could move so delicately around the thin yarn and small double-ended needles, Dean had no idea. It took a few minutes before he returned to his own practice.

“So, uh,” Dean started. “I guess I should ask you what your last name is.”

“D’Angelo.”

“Italian family?”

“Yes, and stereotypically large. I have seven sisters and one brother.”

“Wow.”

“And that’s not including the cousins.” There was enough emotion loaded in his tone that Dean got the impression Castiel wasn’t very fond of many of his relations.

“Castiel doesn’t sound very Italian,” Dean observed to switch the subject.

“No, but being Catholic, my parents were biblically-minded and named me after an obscure angel. The angel of Thursday, to be precise. As you may tell from the unusually cruel name to give a boy who had to then face middle school bullies, they weren’t the most loving of parents. What about you?”

“The name’s Dean Winchester. The angel name might be odd, but at least you’re not named for your grand _mother_. I’ve got just one brother. Mom passed when we were kids, dad worked as a cop and he’s a detective now, in Kansas City. He spent a lot of time undercover, so he wasn’t the most present dad, but it means we’ve got friends as good as family. Uncle Bobby and Aunt Ellen… though they’d beat me dead if I called ‘em that to their faces. I work for Bobby at his garage, _Singer’s_ on Vermont Street, and Ellen owns the Roadhouse out past Hamilton.”

“I’ve seen it, but I don’t think I’ve ever been inside.”

“Well, that’s a crime, because Ellen makes the best damn burgers in the state.”

“I’ll have to try it then.” Castiel was smiling a rather gummy grin.

“Fan of burgers?”

“They make me very happy.” Castiel cleared his throat. “So, uh, is there a girlfriend—or boyfriend—in your life?”

Dean shifted. “Nope,” his voice squeaked. He too cleared his throat. “No. You?”

“No.”

Dean’s chest fluttered nervously. He took a long drink of water from his glass on the table. He wished he’d brought out some beer instead. “So, pie?”

They set the knitting aside and moved to the kitchen. Castiel took a seat at the breakfast bar while Dean pulled out two slices of pie. He offered whipped cream, and they both put a generous amount on top.

Castiel moaned around his first bite. “Where did you get this? This is amazing!”

“I, uh, made it. Last night.”

“From scratch?”

Dean nodded. Castiel suddenly stared at him like he was some sort of superhero. “I like to cook… and bake. Usually I do it for my brother and his wife. It’s not the same when it’s just me, but I was nervous, and it’s calming, so… pie.”

“I’m impressed,” Castiel insisted. “My only claim to fame in the kitchen is setting an unplugged toaster on fire.”

“Should I ask how…”

“Please don’t.”

“Another time?”

“Maybe. If you tell me about the bet you lost that made you have to learn knitting.”

Dean laughed and finished his piece of pie. “Right. The really embarrassing stuff’ll have to wait.”

It was late in the afternoon, so Castiel packed his things back in his bag.

“I’ve got your number,” Dean said as he walked him to the door, “and you’ve got mine, so we’ll text and plan another time to meet?”

“I look forward to it.”

Not too long later, Dean picked up his phone and sent a text to Charlie.

_[4:56pm] No ? about it. 4 this guy I’m gay_

* * *

 

**[9:48am] Have you ever wondered what it would be like if humans were a haplodiploid species?**

Dean stared at the text from Castiel while eating breakfast Sunday morning. He had to pull up a Wikipedia article to understand what Castiel was asking. The article was all about sexual reproduction in bees and ants. Sexual… wait. What? Dean had to read the thing three times to understand it, and he still didn’t understand Castiel’s question.

_[10:23am] U mean like bees?_

**[10:25am] Yes :)**

_[10:28am] No never thought about it_ – That was a safe answer. Simple and noncommittal without the chance of sounding mean or aloof.

**[10:34am] I was thinking how society would be different if women produced only female offspring with a mate, and male offspring completely on their own. Genetically speaking, siblings would be much closer than parents and children.**

Dean laughed. What other reaction could he have? This was the strangest topic he’d ever heard, but it was also rather adorable. – _[10:38am] I’m close with my brother but that’s a little out there for me_

**[10:43am] I apologize if I’ve made you uncomfortable :(**

_[10:44am] Nah weird is cool. U a fan of bees?_

**[10:46am] They fascinate me. I’ve considered getting an apiary.**

_[10:50am] If u do I want 2 get some honey & try making baklava_

**[10:55am] I’d insist on it :Q ;D**

Dean thought that that would be the end of possibly the weirdest conversation he’d ever had, but while changing the oil in an old Dodge the next day, ideas kept turning in his head. He couldn’t stop thinking about it. By lunch he was texting Cas again.

_[12:36pm] So a world where women don’t need men to create more men? Women would dominate, and I’d be making 75 c to the $. Feminist dream come true_

Lunch over, Dean had to set aside his phone and get back to work. A Corolla needed its tires rotated. Before heading home at the end of the day, Dean checked his phone again.

**[12:43pm] Technically feminism is about equality in the genders rather than female superiority. Equality I fully support *\^o^/***

_[6:07pm] But would women be at the top? They’d still need men to have more women. And they’d have a male kid with every period. Men would outnumber the women_

**[6:12pm] That’s what I was wondering. Unlike humans, most eggs are fertilized so females remain the dominant gender in bees. I’m not sure a society ruled by a hive queen would be good for humanity.**

This was definitely the weirdest conversation he’d ever had. – _[6:13pm] Prbly not. Just look @ Borg_

**[6:14pm] I don’t understand that reference (._.?**

_[6:15pm] Star Trek_

**[6:15pm] I’ve never seen it**

_[6:18pm] Seriously? We HAVE to fix that_

**[6:19pm] Is it the one with the big ball that blows up planets?**

_[6:21pm] Dude this might be a deal breaker_

**[6:22pm] I’ll check Netflix for it right away !’0’!**

* * *

 

“You seem happier than normal,” Sam said.

It was Wednesday, and Dean was joining Sam and Jess for dinner. In truth, Dean had come over and was making dinner for them, but both were a frequent occurrence. Dean had cooked a marinated grilled chicken (because Sam had a thing against too much red meat, and there was no way Dean was going to sacrifice flavor) with zucchini gratin, roasted mushrooms, and garlic bread.

Dean had a mouth full of Parmesan covered green squash when Sam had spoken. “Wha?” he said around the mouthful.

Sam winced with a side glare at his brother’s lack of table manners. “I don’t know. There’s just something generally happy about you that’s not usually there.”

Dean swallowed. “Are you saying I’m an unhappy person?”

“No,” Sam protested. “Jess, you want to help me out here?”

“I want to eat more of this chicken,” she said with her mouth half full. She took a sip of wine before speaking again. “Sam’s right though, Dean. You keep smiling when you think no one’s looking. It’s a corny, involuntary kind of smile.”

Dean was about to protest, but stopped. He considered what he had been doing to make him smile more than usual. He’d been trying out a new recipe, so he had his phone out. That was normal. Cas had sent a couple texts continuing a debate they started earlier that day about the best guitarist. Dean was strongly for Jimmy Page with a nod to Jimi Hendrix. Cas preferred Mark Knopfler and John Williams. Dean had been first outraged that Cas lacked good musical taste, and second confused why the guy who wrote the Star Wars soundtrack was listed. Cas then explained that it was a different John Williams to the film composer, and that this one was a classical guitarist. Dean then argued that the debate had been about rock guitarists, and Cas still insisted on Mark Knopfler, but mentioned Brian May as a second favorite. Dean was mollified without being entirely satisfied with the argument. And yet, throughout the exchange he had been smiling enough for Sam and Jess to notice. Huh.

“A guy doesn’t need a reason to smile,” he evaded.

“Erhn, wrong!” said Jess. “You’re doing it again. Right there, smiling.”

Dean quickly did his best to frown.

“You’ve met someone,” Sam declared after a pause.

“What? No.” And there he went lying and breaking Charlie’s rules again. But this was Sam, and he didn’t count.

“Dean, I’m your brother. I know when you’re lying. The last time I saw you like this you were dating… oh, what was her name? I can’t remember. But I remember the smile, and it’s back now. So who is she?”

Dean continued to frown at them but remained silent. The meeting with Cas wasn’t a date, so why would he be smiling as if he were dating someone. Was it a date? He’d been there and he still didn’t know.

“Fine,” said Sam as he pulled out his phone. “I’ll ask Charlie.”

“What makes you think Charlie knows?” Dean asked.

“The nervous wobble in your voice just then,” Jess answered.

“And send,” said Sam. “Shouldn’t be too long before she gives us some answers. In the meantime, if you’d like to confess…”

Dean folded his arms over his chest.

It took only a few minutes before Sam’s phone chimed.

“What’s the verdict?” Jess asked.

“‘Yes, he met someone,’” Sam read. “‘No, I won’t tell you, and don’t push it too hard.’ That’s not what I was expecting. Dean?”

“You heard her,” Dean replied as he gathered his empty plate and took it to the kitchen. “Don’t push me, Sam.”

“I don’t see why you’re being so secretive about this,” Sam continued anyway. “You’ve met a girl who makes you happy. Why wouldn’t you want to tell me about that?”

“Because it’s not dating, because it’s different, and just because!” Dean grabbed Sam’s and Jess’s plates and started loading the dishwasher.

“But…”

“Sam,” said Jess, “maybe we should leave it for now.”

“Why does Charlie get to know, but I don’t?” There was a definite pout on Sam’s face.

“Maybe I should go,” Dean said.

“No, Dean, don’t,” Sam said quickly. “I’m sorry. I’ll drop the whole thing. Stay, okay? I’m happy you’re happy, and we’ll leave it at that.”

Dean took a moment before he nodded.

“Good,” said Jess. “Because I was looking forward to beating both your asses at Carcassonne tonight.”

The table cleared, Sam brought out the game and started setting it up.

“How’s the knitting going?” Sam asked.

“Would you leave it already!” Sam and Jess looked at him with confusion. Dean gulped and added quietly, “It’s fine.”

“Would you excuse me a second?” Sam said and left the room.

Jess watched him go while saying, “You know he’s going for the legal pad to write things down so he can solve the mystery about you.”

“And here I was hoping that by not playing Clue I wouldn’t have to see that awful yellow thing again.”

“We don’t have that kind of luck. And Clue isn’t the only game he brings it out for.”

“Right. I’m gonna need a list of those games.”

* * *

 

Sam’s Yellow Legal Pad

Clues

Defensive about being caught smiling

Met “someone” but won’t say who

Says it’s different and not dating

Charlie won’t spill the details

Same defensive reaction to question about knitting

Conclusions

There’s something embarrassing about this new person y/n?

She’s connected to Dean’s learning how to knit

Hasn’t asked her out yet

Questions still to answer

Why no details?

In what ways is this different?

Why hasn’t he asked her out?

Why is Charlie not sharing everything she knows?

* * *

 

_[12:47pm] How do you feel about minigolf?_

**[12:49pm] I don’t know. It’s been a long time since I’ve played. I think it would be fun. :)**

_[12:50pm] I was going w/my brother Saturday but he got stuck working. Do u want to come?_

**[12:50pm] Yes! <3**

_[12:50pm] K. I’ll meet u there @ 3?_

**[12:51pm] Can we make it 2? I have to work an evening shift at 5.**

_[12:51pm] 2 works_

**[12:52] (^v^)**

* * *

 

Cas was waiting by the door of Lawrence Mini Golf and Arcade when Dean got there.

“How has the knitting been going?” Cas asked.

“Great, actually. You really helped me out there. With what you showed me, I understood the book better, and even tried some different patterns and stitches. I’ve found some things online that I want to make for family Christmas gifts, with it being October, I figured I’d have time to do a couple things. Or is that too ambitious? Could you take a look and make sure I’m not fucking it up? And picking out more yarn. How do you keep all the different types straight?”

“Trial and error.”

“In other words: patience young grasshopper?”

“Yes. And I’ll be happy to help.”

They each paid for their club and ball before heading for the Ancient Greco-Roman themed course.

“How long since you’ve last played?” Dean asked.

“Not since college, I think. However, I do put in time on a normal golf course whenever I get the chance. A leftover habit from my family and the corporate world.”

“So I shouldn’t go easy on you?”

“No.”

“Just to warn you,” Dean said as he took aim, “I can get a little competitive. No mulligans.” His ball rolled into the hole with one shot.

“And here I thought you were going to stand close behind me and help me with my swing,” Cas teased. Before Dean could even react, Cas hit his own ball into the hole with one stroke. “Seven sisters and one brother. You can’t scare me with a little competition.”

“Oh, it’s on.”

Dean couldn’t remember having quite so much fun before. He came to the course occasionally with Sam and Jess, but they had a much more relaxed approach to the game. Sam wouldn’t let Dean keep score, once publically tackling him when he saw the score sheet Dean was hiding. Jess was known to bowl the ball if she didn’t feel like swinging at it with the club. It made a profound change to keep score against a player whose skills were as good as his own. Added to that, the scenery was so much better with Cas’ smile and the crinkles it made around his eyes. The incredibly toned and tanned arm muscles didn’t hurt either.

“That’s two under par for me,” Cas said as they finished the Greco-Roman course. “Who’s leading?”

“Still me,” Dean answered. “We’ve got two more courses for you to catch up. Do you want to do the Medieval Times or the Wild West next?”

“Wild West.”

“Oh!” Dean playfully groaned. “Should have gone for the other. No one beats me on the Wild West.”

“Do your cowboy bowed legs give you an advantage?”

“Low blow, dude.”

“Too below the belt?”

Dean laughed. “Enough punning, more putting.”

“What are you going to do? Round up a posse and put me in the pun-itentiary?”

“No, I’m gonna whoop your ass at golf, is what I’m gonna do.”

They scored equally well on the first few holes. Then came the hole with the swinging pole. It was Dean’s turn to go first. While he was taking his stance, out of the corner of his eye he saw Cas stretching his arms above his head. He delayed hitting the ball so he could stare at the exposed section of skin revealed by the risen shirt and the criminally low-sitting pants. As Cas cricked his neck from side to side, he noticed Dean staring. He gave a devious grin before bending backward like a contortionist to grab his ankles. Dean’s grip on his club slipped, and it hit the ball two feet down the green.

“Fuck,” Dean swore as he lost the shot.

“No mulligans,” Cas replied.

“You…” Dean groaned. The incident left him sufficiently flustered for Cas to be in the lead by the end of the course.

“Looks like there’s a new sheriff in town,” Cas said as he mimed sliding a hand over a brim and tipping the imaginary hat.

“Alright, wise ass, don’t get cocky yet. We’ve got one last course to go.”

Dean did his best to catch up. He really did. But the damage was done, and Cas was a fantastic player. At one point, Dean thought about trying to distract Cas by bending over provocatively when he grabbed the ball from the hole, but he wasn’t sure how to do it. Stick his ass in the air and wiggle it side to side? Besides, _Dean_ wasn’t going to stoop to cheating. Generally speaking, he wasn’t completely opposed to cheating, but he hated to do it when he was honestly good at a game. He enjoyed the competition itself more than the winning. In the end, with scores tallied and Castiel the winner, Dean was glad he had an excuse to challenge him to a rematch.

“This was a lot of fun,” Cas said

“We’re doing this again. And you know who’s gonna win?”

“Me,” stated Cas.

“Hah!”

“I have to get going if I’m going to change before work.”

“Yeah,” said Dean. “So I guess I’ll see ya.”

“Yes. Goodbye, Dean.”

Dean waved and walked to his car, a huge grin on his face.

* * *

 

**[4:27pm] Did you know that there is a species of bee that lays its eggs in other bees’ nests?**

_[5:12pm] No. Sounds pretty crazy_

**[5:16pm] Close. It’s called the Cuckoo Bee };-)**

_[5:16pm] Is this a joke?_

**[5:19pm] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cuckoo_bee**

_[5:22pm] not a joke but rlly messed up_

_[5:24pm] if u get bees don’t get those_

* * *

 

Dean was in the middle of a dilemma. Cas was fast on his way to becoming one of Dean’s best friends. But Dean was attracted to him in ways that went beyond friendship. Oh the dreams that backbend at mini golf had inspired. He just wasn’t sure if Cas felt the same way. He’d never made any move, or said anything to indicate he was interested. Dean kept scrolling through the texts they shared. Nothing flirtatious. Just interesting facts and opinionated debates.

He knew he should talk to Charlie, but he put it off. If it was meant to be, then the universe would give him a sign. He was in no mood to rush it.

Dean was flipping channels on his TV when he heard Skype ringing. Wow. He didn’t expect a sign that early!

Bracing himself and putting on a smile, he opened the video call. “Hey, Charles, what’s up?”

“Nothing much,” replied Charlie. “Just checking up on you and the knitting. How’s it going with dreamy Michaels guy?”

No foreplay, just straight to the subject he’d rather avoid. “Going?”

“You _are_ dating him, right?”

Dean scratched the back of his neck. “I don’t think so.”

“What? What do you mean you don’t think so? What else was that ‘I’m gay for this guy’ message about?”

The universe really had it out for him. Either that or Charlie had been psychically picking up on his thoughts. “We hung out at my place and he showed me how to knit. It wasn’t a date. But I think I might ask him out. I don’t know. I don’t want to assume and ruin what could be a really awesome friendship.”

She frowned. “So you guys just hung out one time on not a date, and you already think it’s friendship?”

“And played mini golf.”

“Wait. You spent an afternoon knitting and playing miniature golf together?”

“No, the mini golf was a different day.”

Charlie put a hand over her eyes. “Okay, so you’ve ‘hung out’ on two different days. Anything else?”

“We’ve texted.”

“Uh huh, texted about what?”

“Just stuff. Cas is a weird dude. He sends me things about bees, or I try to educate him in music. He’s a friend.”

“Oh honey. Was food involved in one of those ‘not-a-dates’?”

He hesitated. “There might have been pie.”

“Oh my god, Winchester! Those were dates!”

“But…”

“No, no buts. Listen to me, you have to talk to him to make sure. I don’t think I’m wrong And even if they weren’t dates, I don’t see how asking a guy out would ruin a friendship this early on. If he’s not interested—which he is because it’s obvious, and if he’s not, he’s an idiot—then you laugh it off and stay friends. Just be honest and blame it on being newly out of the closet. You have nothing to worry about. Man up and ask out your crafting hotty!”

“Yes, your majesty.”

“Darn right. And I’m gonna go so you can do it right now.”

“Charlie…”

“Now!” She signed off.

Dean shook his head. He picked up his phone. Should he do this by text or phone call? And what should the date be? If it was dinner how far was he supposed to go? With girls, things got to the bedroom pretty quickly. Despite his overactive imagination, he wasn’t sure he was ready for anything like that yet.

_[8:28pm] Wanna get lunch on Sat?_

Lunch was good. Lunch was safe and fit with Charlie’s rule of being comfortable. He waited nervously for a reply. Why wasn’t there an undo on sending texts? No, he needed to do this.

**[8:31pm] The deli across from the Cineplex is very good.**

_[8:31pm] So yes?_

**[8:31pm] Yes :D**

But wait. Was it clear this was him asking for a date? Lunch is so ambiguous. Friends get lunch all the time. Dinner says date, but he stupidly asked for lunch. Shit. How could he make things clear?

_[8:35pm] It’s a date. 11:30 too early to meet you @ the deli?_

**[8:36pm] 11:30 is perfect (^v^)**

Dean let out a quick sigh of relief. He got the word date in there and Cas wasn’t flipping out over it. Maybe everything would be just fine. Or maybe Cas thought they were already dating like Charlie said. Maybe he was overthinking everything and really needed to call it a night.

* * *

 

“I’ve been watching Star Trek,” Castiel said.

They were sitting in the deli. Naturally Cas chose the moment Dean had his face full of sandwich to make his announcement.

“Tha’s gah…” Dean coughed, and took time to chew and swallow before speaking again. “That’s great! What did you think?”

“I thought it best to start with the 1966 series—”

“Good choice.”

“—and I like the way it addresses social issues as an allegory seen through alien races.”

“Yeah, Roddenberry was big on that.”

“I’m not usually a fan of drama, but I have enjoyed it.”

“Huh. What do you usually like to watch?”

“Documentaries, various house shows, cooking shows, and competitions.”

Dean gave a short laugh. “Wait, you can’t cook and you don’t like drama, but you do like cooking competitions? I thought they were full of drama.”

“I enjoy food,” Cas argued, “and even though I don’t have much skill I appreciate others’ talents. My current favorite is the Great British Bake Off, and I think you should watch it too. That show especially doesn’t have ‘drama.’” He crooked his fingers in air quotes on the last word.

Dean shook his head. “I like baking; I’m not too crazy about watching it. Give me a drama—the more melodramatic, the better. The absolute best will involve blood and guts and gruesome murders.”

“Perhaps we could meet halfway. There is a competition show called Forged in Fire; the contestants are blacksmiths who have to forge knives and historical weapons.”

“Do they use the weapons?”

Cas grinned. “They test them on ballistics dummies and pig carcasses, usually.”

Dean pointed a finger. “That I’ll watch. Gotta be honest, I miss Mythbusters.”

Cas nodded his agreement.

Talking with Cas was easy and natural. It was so easy in fact that it didn’t feel like a date. Was it? Hadn’t Dean made that clear? Should he make it more clear? Was it just him feeling this way? Why couldn’t he have an inner Charlie to help him out here? Why did this have to get so chick flick?

“Listen, man,” Dean started. “I’ve gotta be honest about something. This is my first date with a guy…” Dean stopped because of the sudden puzzlement on Cas’ face. “What? Did you not think this was a date?”

“No,” Cas said slowly. “I thought we had been out on a date. Wasn’t that the purpose of mini golf?”

“Oh. I’m an idiot,” said Dean. “I didn’t know. I’m sorry.”

“Dean, no, I made assumptions. I didn’t even ask if you were straight or not. I just hoped and—”

“I’m not completely straight,” Dean interrupted. “It just took me until recently to understand that I’m bisexual. That’s the term a friend used, but I’m not really one for labels. And never in a thousand years did I think I’d have a conversation like this in a deli.”

“It is unconventional. Are you sure you’re okay with this?”

“Yeah. My friend, Charlie, she’s got these three rules of dating. Be honest, be yourself, and move at a pace you’re comfortable with. I gotta say, being out with you is so comfortable it doesn’t even feel like dating.”

“How do you mean?”

“We’re friends. We talk. There’s not some hidden meaning or game we’re playing.”

“I believe that’s why a romantic partner is usually called a boy _friend_.”

Dean laughed. “I guess so, but I’m not sure if I’m ready to call us that yet.”

“No, you’re right. But we can say we’re dating, right?”

“Right.”

Of course, just when he cleared all of the confusion and set things straight, the universe sent him a curveball.

“Dean?”

Dean turned to see who had called his name. He was dragged from his chair into a giant bearhug before he could blink. “Hey, Benny,” he gasped.

Benny released him and clasped a hand on Dean’s shoulder. “How are you, brother? It’s been ages since I’ve seen you.”

“That’s what happens when you leave town for a three-month course in teaching survival training. In Canada.” Dean gave a fake shudder.

“Eh,” he shrugged with a grin. “But I’m being rude and stealing you from your… date?” Benny paused as he stared at Cas. Dean shifted from one foot to the other. “If I’d known you openly liked men I would have asked you out years ago. Making me regret being married.”

Dean scratched the back of his neck nervously. His face felt hotter than a baked potato straight out of the oven. _Be honest_. The thought repeated in his mind as if Charlie were there next to him. “Uh, yeah. Cas, this is an old buddy of mine, Benny. Benny, this is my date, Castiel.”

Benny shook Castiel’s hand. “Nice to meet you, Castiel. And don’t worry, I’d never go out with a guy who hates my grandmother’s bouillabaisse.”

“It’s got eel and way too much fennel,” Dean complained.

“See?” Benny said to Cas while over-exaggeratingly rolling his eyes. “Looks like they’ve got my order ready. I gotta run and you got a date. We’ll catch up some other time, Dean.”

“Yeah, man, good seeing you.”

Dean sat back down as Benny left. “Sorry about that. I’ve known Benny for almost forever.”

Cas smiled. “Would _you_ date a man who put eel and too much fennel in a bouillabaisse?”

“God no. And that was just Benny’s sense of humor. He was joking to get a rise out of us. He would goad you into doing almost anything for a laugh. Got me to go camping once, and that was one time too many. I’m praying he never shows you the slideshow.”

“You really shouldn’t talk about things you don’t want me to see,” Cas teased. “I’ll know to ask for them. And _Cas_?”

“Oh, sorry, I should have asked. Castiel’s a bit of a mouthful, and I’ve been using Cas in my head for a little while.”

“No, I like it. It’s better than what my sisters and cousins call me.”

“Dare I ask?”

“Cassie.”

“I will not be calling you that, for sure. Cassie’s the name of an ex. But you’re sure Cas is okay?”

“Yes, Dean. Though, I’d prefer you call me sexy.”

Dean laughed. “Only if you have an MD and cowboy boots.”

“I don’t understand,” Cas said with his eyes squinting and his head tilted to one side.

“It’s another reference, and I won’t insist you learn about it. It’s high in melodrama.”

“Ah. Are you finished with your lunch?” Cas asked.

“Yeah. Do you have somewhere to go, or do you wanna keep this date going?”

“I’d like to spend more time with you. Did you have something in mind?”

“Not really.”

“What do you usually do on a Saturday afternoon?”

Dean thought about it. “I don’t know. Sometimes I like to just go out for a drive.”

“That sounds nice.”

Dean cocked his head to one side. “Then I guess you’re gonna get to meet my baby.”

Cas squinted in confusion. It was an adorable look on him. Dean led him out of the deli and across the street to where he parked the Impala.

“Cas, say hello to Baby.” Dean opened the passenger side door for him.

Cas shook his head with a smile. “You’re a mechanic. I should have known.”

“Is that any way to greet a lady?” Dean said with feigned indignation.

“I apologize. Hello… Baby.”

“Eh, don’t worry about him, darlin,” Dean said to the car as he got in the driver’s seat. “He’ll learn to love you too.”

“How’d you get into cars?” Cas asked as Dean started the engine.

“Bend the knees, duck down, and slide in,” Dean joked. He smirked at his joke, but Cas wasn’t laughing. Smiling, but not laughing. “My dad, really. He always took care of this car instead of sending her to the shop. I think he was a mechanic sometime between the military and being a cop. My brother and I were born in Lawrence, but we travelled a lot, back and forth, in and out of the state. We tried to keep close, but Dad had to transfer around to where there was work and advancement opportunities. Through all that, this car was home more than anything else. I knew Dad was gonna give her to me when I turned 16, but that was only if I could take care of her. I liked working on an engine so much that I just figured why bother with anything else? By then we’d settled back in Lawrence for good, so I got my GED, dropped school, and went to work for Bobby.”

“You never wanted more?” There was no judgement in Cas’ voice, just curiosity.

“I guess not. What about you? How’d you end up working in a Michaels in Lawrence?”

“The job at Michaels is just one thing I do occasionally,” Cas said. “The manager is a friend. I dabble in many things for my general income, including being a writer.”

“A published writer?” Dean clarified. “Anything I’ve read?”

“Do you read elementary school math textbooks?”

“No.”

“Then no.”

“Wait. You write math textbooks? How did you get into that? And what else do you do?”

“My parents encouraged math, technology, and science to some degree. They expected high achievement, and plans were laid out for me to join the family accounting and investment firm in Chicago. I followed that plan for a while, but it held less and less enjoyment for me the further I got along. I don’t think they were very pleased when I gave it all up. There wasn’t much for me to do with my math degree and unfinished MBA other than teach. I moved to Kansas City where I taught math in elementary and middle schools, but that wasn’t what I thought it would be either. There’s far too much politics in teaching. I found an affordable place to live in Lawrence, started writing text books, and I do online tutoring as well.”

“That explains how you’re such a great teacher,” said Dean.

“Thank you.”

There was a long pause before Dean spoke again. “So mini golf was a date. Was it a good date?”

“Of course,” Cas said with enthusiasm. “I had a wonderful time.”

“It wasn’t too childish?” Dean asked. He hadn’t brought a date to mini golf in a long time. Not since Lydia had taunted him about it… and the LARPing, and the board games, and several other things as well; that relationship hadn’t lasted long, but his reluctance to show that side of himself to a date did.

“Not at all,” Cas assured him. “There’s nothing wrong with letting loose and enjoying things that some people regard as just for children. Many times those things aren’t _just_ for children. I’ve recently considered writing some children’s books that aren’t textbooks. Picture books seem simple, but there’s a complexity and brilliance to them that gets overlooked.”

“Hey, no argument from me. Picture books are great! You should give it a go.”

“There are ones that combine math with a story, so I thought I’d start there. It’s familiar territory.”

“Seriously, do it. And I want to read it when you’re done.”

Again there was silence. Like everything else with Cas, it was comfortable instead of awkward.

Cas was the one to eventually break it. “What made you think mini golf wasn’t a good date?”

Dean laughed it off. “C’mon, Cas, a date that doesn’t end with a goodbye kiss? Kind of makes a guy wonder.”

“But you didn’t think it was a date.”

“But you thought it was.”

“Dean, are you saying you’d like to kiss me?”

Cas leaned over and pressed his lips lightly against Dean’s cheek. Dean blushed redder than a cartoon fire hydrant.

“Hey, what kind of a drive is this without music? I’m gonna prove that Jimmy Page kicks Mark Knopfler’s ass. There’s a tape in that box by your feet marked Zeppelin Mixed Tape. Could you pull that out?”

Cas smiled as he complied. For the first side of the tape they drove around Lawrence and out onto the more open country roads. The second side would have to wait for another time. Dean parked back at the deli where Cas had left his car, and it was time to once again say goodbye.

“This was really nice, Cas,” Dean said.

“It was.”

“So you think we’ll have another date soon?”

Cas put a hand on Dean’s shoulder. “Definitely.”

Cas moved to kiss his cheek, but Dean swiftly moved his head to capture Cas’ lips. Cas hesitated with surprise for only a moment before pressing into the kiss with gusto. One arm went to Dean’s back while the other gripped Dean’s arm. Dean’s hand went to Castiel’s neck, drifted upwards, and ran through his hair. Too soon, they pulled apart.

“Goodnight, Dean.” Cas got out of the car.

Dean left with a huge grin.

* * *

 

_[2:19pm] so about yesterday_

**[2:20pm] when you kissed me? (^3^)**

_[2:20pm] Yeah that_

**[2:21pm] (^u^)**

**[2:22pm] How are you feeling about it?**

_[2:24pm] I wouldn’t say no to doing it again_

**[2:24pm] Are you always this romantic?**

_[2:25pm] Shutup this is big for me_

**[2:26pm] You’re right. I’m sorry.**

**[2:28pm] Would you like to get together again?**

_[2:28pm] Definitely r u free tues eve?_

**[2:29pm] I have yoga 7-8:30.**

_[2:29pm] Fuck_

**[2:31pm] You could join me and we could get ice cream after. 0:-)**

_[2:31pm] Rlly? IDK_

**[2:33pm] It’s a simple class for relaxation. There’s another I go to for a workout. I would never suggest an advanced class like that for someone who hasn’t tried it before.**

_[2:35pm] How do u know I havnt tried it?_

**[2:36pm] (~_~)**

_[2:36pm] Fine I don’t do yoga_

**[2:37pm] I think you’d really enjoy it.**

_[2:37pm] What about wed?_

**[2:38pm] I’m working the closing shift :( Tomorrow?**

_[2:38pm] Plans w/Benny_

**[2:39pm] Thursday?**

_[2:39pm] Game night w/family_

**[2:39pm] Friday?**

…

_[2:44pm] I guess_

…

_[3:02pm] Let’s do yoga_

**[3:03pm] |^o^/**

* * *

 

What in the name of all gods and deities worshipped on this earth was he thinking?

More time with Cas. Cas in yoga pants. Cas getting bendy in yoga pants. Kissing Cas again. That’s what he had been thinking.

A few weeks ago, Dean never would have found the idea of another man’s body this arousing. Or would he? Was it just Cas? No, there was that “college” week with Aaron he kept telling himself didn’t count. He had liked Aaron and he had liked the kissing, but it never went any further so Dean just went into denial over it all. Why hadn’t he honestly realized he was bisexual earlier? These thoughts consumed him as he worked on a special restoration job Bobby had entrusted to him.

He could think back to when he started fantasizing about boobs. That was easily tied back to being a kid. A friend stole one of his dad’s Sports Illustrated swimsuit editions so that they could take a peak. Oh, Kathy Ireland. But who was the first man to stir his interest? Charlie mentioned Labyrinth, but he’d only seen that movie a few years back. He’d been crushing on Dr. Sexy just as long. He had to go further back. Harrison Ford? No, he’d wanted _to be_ Indiana Jones, not _do_ Indiana Jones. The same with any James Bond. Why be into the guy when there were so many hot babes? Wait… babe… bay…

Baywatch.

No, not the Hoff. He couldn’t care less about David Hasselhoff; that hairy chest didn’t do anything for him. Obviously he said he watched the show just for Pamela and Yasmine to fuel his imagination. He never told anyone there had also been Billy Warlock and David Charvet. He could still see their dark hair, and oh god Billy’s legs. The muscles in those legs.

And there it was. Dean now prayed to all those gods and deities that no one would ever find out about his first attraction to dudes. Watching crap TV like Baywatch was fine—the guilty pleasure of watching nearly-naked girls run—but having that crap TV be the source of your gay sexual awakening was not cool.

Once he had his epiphany, Dean threw all his attention back on the 1968 Pontiac Firebird he was resurrecting. She wasn’t his Baby, but the red convertible was going to be pretty sweet by the time he was finished with her. He loved when projects like this came along.

After work and a stop at home for a shower, Dean met Benny at the Roadhouse.

“Hey, Benny,” Dean greeted him with a hug.

“Hey, chief. How are you?”

“Starving,” he answered honestly.

Benny laughed. “I already put in the order for your usual. Should be out in just a bit.”

“You are my hero right now.”

“Rough day?”

“No, actually pretty great. Got a great restoration in: nice little Firebird that’s been neglected. Mostly it’s cleaning the rust and getting a few new parts. Hopefully no surprises, but it’s a convertible so you never know. The owner hinted about wanting an estimate on how much to turn the top from manual to automatic. That could cause a little trouble.”

“At least you had a good weekend, right?” Benny said with a certain twinkle in his eyes.

“Really? That’s your segue? Just ask what you want to ask.”

“Alright. How’d you ever get someone that fine to go out with you?”

Dean gaped. “Seriously? That’s your question? Not ‘since when are you gay?’”

“Nope. Kind of just figured. Who cares about that?”

“I do! I should be freaking out! This is my life and my identity. I spent the whole morning trying to figure out why I haven’t noticed I can be attracted to a person with a penis.”

“That’s an easy one to answer.”

The waitress arrived with their meals and a couple beers. The conversation paused while Dean shoved half the bacon cheeseburger in his mouth. Accustomed to Dean’s abysmal table manners, Benny dove into his own chicken fried steak before expounding on his comment.

“You didn’t notice because you didn’t want to notice,” Benny said at last.

“What the hell does that mean?”

“Means you chased women because you were expected to chase women. Blame your dad, society, whatever. You went looking for those sorts of relationships and ignored the rest of your options. Now you’re not ignoring it.”

“Well, why now?”

“Love at first sight, chemistry, hell if I know.”

Dean rolled his eyes shoveled French fries into his mouth. He took a while to chew it over. “So I don’t need to have the big queer freak out?”

“Do you like Cas?”

Dean thought about their conversations and texts. “Yeah, he’s a great, weird, funny dude.”

“And are you attracted to him?”

Dean didn’t even need to think about that kiss. “Hell yeah.”

“Then no freak out necessary.”

“That simple, huh?”

“That simple.”

Dean nodded. It was getting too chick flick, so he switched the subject. “How’s Andrea liking you back home?”

“She’s liking it just fine, except now she won’t stop complaining about my snoring. Says it’s not all that easy to get used to now that she’s had so much quiet.”

“She gonna send you to one of those sleep clinics?”

“Will you shut it? From your mouth to that woman’s ears, I swear.”

Dean spent the next few hours listening to Benny talk about his time in Canada. He learned all sorts of new ways to torture people willing to pay for the nature and the great outdoors adventure experience. In Dean’s opinion, those people were nuts. He was happy enough to enjoy it vicariously through Benny’s stories.

As they walked out to the parking lot, Benny had one last question for Dean. “You seeing Cas again?”

“Uh, yeah. Tomorrow. We’re gonna do yoga. He’s in a class so…” Dean stopped talking when Benny doubled over in laughter.

“Yoga? You?” Benny coughed out. “Oh, you’re so gone on this fella.”

“No! Sam’s been all over me to try it, and Cas said it was simple, and we’re both really busy so this was when we could get together.” Dean was babbling as bad as Charlie.

“Couldn’t wait for the weekend?”

Dean crossed his arms and glared.

“Alright, chief, I’ll leave it alone. Good luck, and try not to stare too much at that man’s ass.”

Dean flipped Benny the bird before getting into his car.

* * *

 

Dean was on his lunch break when his phone rang. He smiled when he saw the name of the caller. “Hey, Cas.”

“Hello, Dean. Is now a good time to talk?”

“It couldn’t be more perfect. It’s my lunch. What’s up?”

“I realized I neglected to tell you where we are going tonight.”

“You did,” said Dean. He had spent the morning in a state just bordering on panic. There were three-dozen chocolate chip cookies freshly made in the cookie jar in his apartment. “I was going to call you after work about that, and also to ask what I should wear.”

“Ah, yes. Sweatpants and a t-shirt work perfectly well. It just has to be comfortable and movable. The class is at the Buckshot Gym.”

“Seriously?” He went into full-blown panic.

“Yes.” Cas sounded uncertain.

“My brother works there,” Dean explained.

There was a pause. “Then your brother is Sam Winchester?”

“That’s him. Wait. Don’t tell me you know him.”

“I’m passingly acquainted with him.”

“You’re in one of his classes.” He didn’t need to ask it; the universe was just that set against him.

“Yes. Is that a problem?”

“No, no, of course not. It just took me by surprise.” Dean gave a short laugh. “He said there were men in his yoga class. And I’ve already got a membership at that gym that I don’t use; it’s a family perk thing.”

“If you’d rather not come…”

“No, it’s fine, Cas. It’s just… I haven’t told him about going out with you. It’s just really soon, we’ve just met, and he can get really… intense.”

“I have no wish to make you uncomfortable. He’s _your_ brother, and I will let you choose the time to inform him we’re dating. I won’t say anything about it to him.”

“Thanks, Cas. I’m really not trying to hide you, but I’m—”

“Not ready to come out yet to your family. I understand, Dean. I’ve been in that situation myself, so I won’t push you and I won’t judge you.”

“You know, Benny made this remark, essentially saying you’re too good for me. I think he was right.”

“I think Benny needs to mind his own business.”

Dean laughed. “Yeah. Oh, shit. My lunch is just about up. I’ll see you tonight?”

“I look forward to it.”

As soon as they hung up, Dean made another call.

“Dean?” Sam asked as he answered. “Is something wrong?”

“Nah, nothing’s wrong. Just thinking about the big game night this week. I know I said Thursday, but I may have to stay late for a part to be specially delivered. I don’t know yet. What nights are you working? Tonight? Friday? Just in case I need to switch things around.”

“Just Wednesday. But Friday Jess and I were going to have a special date night.”

“Right. No, that’s fine. The part’ll probably get here earlier in the day, I’m just covering bases. So we’ll keep it on Thursday. Thanks Sam!”

He hung up with a long sigh of relief. Sam wasn’t working at the gym tonight, so Dean wouldn’t have to worry about avoiding him. He loved his brother, he really did. And he knew that Sam would have no problem accepting that he’s bisexual. But Sam got weird every single time Dean had a relationship that looked like it could get serious. He would push and nag about the “status” of the relationship, when could they double date, would Dean like to browse jewelry stores with him “just in case.” That last one might be exaggerating a little. But the point was it was exhausting telling him to back off, and then he’d get that look on his face. Like he was a puppy and you’d just stepped on his tail. Dean wanted to spend more time with Cas, and to feel more comfortable, and if they got to the point where they were boyfriends, then he’d tell his brother.

Well, at least that got the panic down to just a sweating bullets nervous about making a complete ass of himself doing some fancy Asian stretching. That he could manage. He had a car to focus on, and there was nothing like pounding out a dent in a rear fender to release some stress. And we he got home, there were cookies.

* * *

 

Dean was getting out of his car in the gym parking lot when he heard his name. He turned and saw Cas pulling items out of the back of his car. Surprisingly, it was the first time Dean had actually gotten a look at Cas’ car. Or more accurately, his pimpmobile. Of all the cars ever made, why did he have to drive a Lincoln Continental? Dean tried to think how it could be worse. A VW Bug? A Pinto? Okay, it wasn’t a Pinto. He’d give him that much.

“Seriously, Cas?”

“Are you making fun of my car?” Cas asked.

“What? No.”

Cas didn’t need to say that he didn’t believe him; the look on his face did that quite clearly. He handed Dean one of the bags he was carrying. “I brought you a spare mat, towel, and water bottle. Just in case.”

“Wow. That’s great, Cas. Thanks.”

He nodded and they walked into the gym. Dean felt his stomach squirm while the man at the front desk scanned their gym cards; he hoped that no one who knew he was Sam’s brother would pay much attention to him. But he never even came to the gym, so not many people would know him.

The main floor was filled with weights and equipment. The upper floor overlooked it all, a balcony ring of various treadmills and ellipticals. Cas led the way upstairs to the large mirrored floor space tucked further back into the building, the area used for classes. Dean followed Cas’ example in setting up his mat and taking off his shoes. There were about fifteen other people with mats scattered around the wood floor. It wasn’t too big of a crowd, just enough to not feel in the spotlight. At the front a dark-haired woman turned to face the group.

“Welcome everyone! I see some new faces, so let me introduce myself. I’m Lisa and this is our Yoga for Stress Relief class. I want you to follow me as best as you can. Remember to keep an eye on your breathing and your form. Even if you can’t stretch as deeply into some of the positions, you should still have the right form. The mirrors help, and I’ll be moving around the room. Okay, let’s get started. Mountain pose and deep breaths. In… and out.”

Okay, in all honesty, yoga wasn’t that bad. Sure it had the hokey breathing and the weird animal poses, but by the end of it, Dean did feel relaxed and—dare he say it—oddly happy. He rationalized it away as some zen ninja magic making endorphins in the body. Or something.

“Well?” Cas asked him when the class was done.

“Not the worst thing I’ve ever done.” Dean admitted.

Cas smiled with a hint of smugness. “Should I take that to mean you liked it?”

“Shut up.”

They walked out towards the stairs, when suddenly Cas grabbed his arm and stopped him.

“It appears your brother is here after all,” Cas said and nodded his head to the floor below.

“Fuck.” Sure enough, there was the Sasquatch who wasn’t supposed to be working tonight. The squirming stomach was back.

“I’ll go first, wait here, and then follow.”

“Cas! Wait, Cas.” Dean stood awkwardly. He looked around and the instructor was walking by. He could stall for time talking to her. “Hey, Lisa, right? Great class.”

“Thank you…”

“Dean.”

“Dean. I saw you came with Castiel. Are you _together_ together, or just friends?”

“Um… well… uh…”

“That’s not a definite no, so I’m guessing it’s complicated?”

“No, I’m not sure yet. It’s early days.”

“But he convinced you to do yoga? You must really like him.”

Dean felt himself blushing. “Yeah.”

“He’s a great guy. Really. I’m actually a bit jealous.” She smiled. “But don’t let that stop you coming. We always welcome new students.”

He laughed. “The universe is determined to get me and yoga together.”

“Maybe you should listen,” she said. “I hope I’ll see you next time. Not next week, though; I’ll be taking my son out trick-or-treating.”

“Right, Halloween. I hope you guys have fun.”

Dean watched her walk towards a staff door. He looked over the balcony to the main floor and saw Cas walking outside. He also saw Sam look directly at him. There was no escaping it, so he might as well get it over with. He walked down the stairs.

“Dean,” Sam greeted. He stared at the borrowed mat slung over Dean’s shoulder. “Are you here doing _yoga_?”

“You keep saying I should,” Dean said defensively. He didn’t want Sam asking too many questions, so he tried to alter the focus of the conversation. “You said you only worked Wednesday night.”

“Ava called out sick, and I filled in last minute. Did you call me just to make sure I wouldn’t see you doing yoga?”

“Pffft, no!” Dean lied. He tried another way of deflecting. “How come in all your work stories you haven’t mentioned Lisa? She’s pretty hot.”

“Um, yeah, I guess. I’m married, and you know it’s not something I really pay attention to.”

“C’mon, Jess hasn’t got you so whipped that you can’t appreciate the beauty of another woman. You’ve got eyes. And with a view like that, I might come back.”

“Seriously?” Sam looked shocked enough that any sudden gust of air might knock him over.

“Or I’ll come and do some cardio. Because, dude, you could rename that class Yoga for Yawning. I just about fell asleep. So, I’m gonna go. See you Thursday, Sammy.” Dean dashed out the front door.

Cas was waiting by his car. Dean returned the shoulder bag with the mat.

“Ice cream?” Cas asked.

“Fuck yes,” Dean replied with a smile.

* * *

 

Sam’s Yellow Legal Pad

 

Clues

Defensive about being caught smiling

Met “someone” but won’t say who

Says it’s different and not dating

Charlie won’t spill the details

Same defensive reaction to question about knitting

Did yoga without it being part of the bet

Didn’t want me to know he was at my gym

Thinks Lisa is hot

Lisa is a single mother

Conclusions

~~There’s something embarrassing about this new person y/n?~~

She’s connected to Dean’s learning how to knit y/n?

~~Hasn’t asked her out yet~~

Dean is dating Lisa y/n?

It’s different because she has a kid and that means more commitment

Embarrassed because she works with me y/n?

Questions still to answer

~~Why no details?~~

~~In what ways is this different?~~

~~ ~~ Why is Charlie not sharing everything she knows?

How is Lisa connected to the knitting?

* * *

 

Wednesday night Dean was back at Michaels. If he was going to be knitting for a month, then he was going to put it to good use. He’d be making everyone their Christmas gifts this year. After all, it was only a little over two months until Christmas, and he hated shopping.

When he walked in, Cas was standing at the front registers with a female employee.

“Hello, welcome to… Dean!” Cas’ customer greeting turned to happy surprise.

“Welcome to Dean?” the dark-haired woman with him mocked. “Did we suddenly change companies, Clarence?”

He gave her a momentary glare before turning back to Dean.

“I hope it’s okay,” Dean said. “Could you help me pick out more yarn for a few projects?”

“I’d be happy to,” Cas replied.

“Woah, hang on,” the woman said. “I can’t have you wandering off with pretty strangers and abandoning your post here. Especially strangers I haven’t threatened with a painful death if they hurt you in any way.”

Cas rolled his eyes. “Dean, this is my soon to be ex-best friend Meg. Meg, this is the Dean I told you about.”

“Well, if it’s _the Dean_ then I guess you can run along. Just remember boys, there are cameras in every aisle. If you start sucking face, make sure it gets your good side.” She gave a rakish wink.

“So that’s your best friend, Meg,” Dean said as they walked to the back of the store. “Clarence?”

“Yes, don’t pay any attention to her jokes. She has a rather… odd sense of humor. What sort of projects were you looking to do?”

“I thought I’d keep it super simple and just make everyone scarves. That’s simple enough to get done, right? Or is it too simple just doing long rectangles of stockinette and garter stitches?”

“If you’re worried about that, there are a few ways to make it look more complicated than it really is. You could use a variegated yarn. Right now color pooling, using the change in colors along the yarn to form a pattern, is very popular. You could also use a higher quality yarn. But those you’d have to go to a specialty store or order online.”

“I’ll stick with what’s here. That color pooling sounds cool. You could show me how to do that?”

“Of course. And I can show you different ways to finish them so they’re not all identical. You could add fringe, sew the ends together to make an infinity scarf, and so on.”

“Sounds great, Cas. I owe you big time for this.”

Dean filled his basket with what looked like a few sheep’s worth of yarn. He figured if he made something for one of the people he considered family he better make something for them all. There was a rusty fall color variegated yarn for Sam, a lovely seafoam green and teal for Jess, Gryffindor colors for Charlie’s house scarf, two different blues for Bobby and Ellen, green for his dad, red for Benny, and purple for Jo. As soon as they were back as the register, Meg reappeared to hover over Cas.

“Something wrong?” Cas asked her.

“No, just spying on you two. It’s sad that you’re actually the most interesting things in here right at the moment.”

“Right,” Dean said with a frown. “Anyway, are you busy Friday night, Cas?”

“No. What did you have in mind?”

“Movie night? We could do a double feature of some scary movies. Get in a Halloween mood... since it’s coming up on Tuesday.”

Meg laughed. “Good luck with that! Do you like old movies, Dean? Clarence only watches movies so ancient they aren’t the tiniest bit scary.”

Cas frowned. “There’s nothing wrong with liking the classics.”

“There is when it’s as boring as Lugosi’s Dracula. No blood, no boobs, no point.”

Dean chuckled at what was obviously a long-standing argument between the two friends. But it did give him an idea. “Why don’t we watch some classics, but we then watch the remakes and decide which is better?”

“That sounds wonderful,” Cas answered.

Meg blew a raspberry at them. “You guys are so cute you make me want to punch a baby in the face.”

“You always want to punch a baby,” Cas countered.

“Yes, but not always in the face. So which boring originals are you gonna force on lover boy, and what god awful remakes are you gonna torture Clarence with?”

“I could text you a list of what Halloween appropriate movies I have, and you could pick out which ones you have the remake of?” Cas suggested.

“Sounds like we have a plan, Cas. Friday, my place, at six?”

“I’ll be there.”

* * *

 

Dean scrolled through the list of movie titles on his phone. Sam was setting up Castle Panic on the table to kick off their big Halloween themed game night. He also had out Zombie Dice, Gloom, and Betrayal at House on the Hill. Castle Panic wasn’t really Halloween themed, but the big family game night rules said they needed at least four games, and Dean had refused to play Fury of Dracula. He really didn’t care for vampires. Which was why he was saying no to Dracula and Nosferatu for his movie night with Cas.

Frankenstein: no.

Phantom of the Opera: HELL NO. Dean didn’t do silent movies or musicals.

The Mummy: yes. Dean was providing the remake, and you bet your bottom dollar that he’d choose the Brendan Fraser original. Remake. Whatever.

House of Wax: no. Cas made a special point of saying he had the Vincent Price movie and the “original” Mystery of the Wax Museum. How many remakes were there? Dean had thought it was just a shitty Paris Hilton movie.

The Haunting: maybe. That was just a $5 bin cheap buy. He’d unfortunately seen the remake on TV a couple times, but he’d never seen the original. Well, it had to be better than the Liam Neeson crapfest. He’d throw it in so Cas could win on the old versus new front. That would make it four movies, and that was more than enough. There were probably more movies they could do, but they could wait for some other—

“Dean!”

Sam’s voice cut into Dean’s thoughts. He jolted forward slightly in surprise. “What?”

Sam could melt steel with the angry heat of his bitchface. “Put the phone down. We’re ready to start.”

Dean raised his hands in surrender. “Fine. I’m ready.”

Sam was still frowning, but Jess had a slight smile on her face. She said, “Okay, honey, you can bring on the goblin hoard now.” While Sam made the first move, Jess turned to Dean. “I heard a rumor that someone was seen coming out of a yoga class this week.”

“Sam, trade me the red swordsman for my green archer,” Dean said, taking a moment before answering his sister-in-law. “We all know Big Bird over here told you. So what?”

“ _So what_?” she repeated. “Let’s think back to everything you’ve said about it. I believe the words you once used were, ‘no way, no fucking way, stop asking me, Samantha.’ Did you, or did you not once say that?”

“Maybe,” he shrugged. “I also said I might try it as payment for losing Charlie’s bet. Do you remember that?”

“No,” she answered. She looked at the piece Sam pulled out of the cup. “Shit, the Goblin King? Eugh.”

“You weren’t there when he said it,” Sam said. “But I was and you also said, ‘Thanks, Dr. Oz, I’ll pass.’ Maybe on your turn you should switch your brick with Jess for the blue knight and knock that troll down a hit point.”

“Right,” Dean grumbled. “So yeah, I tried yoga. The world didn’t end, but if you pull anything other than a goblin or an orc from that cup…”

“Sorry, it’s another troll.”

“Who decided to play this game again?” Dean demanded.

“You,” replied Sam. “You’re the big baby who refused to hunt down the king of vampires.”

“Vampires suck,” Dean muttered.

“As a rule, yes,” said Jess. “I think what we want to know is if there was some special reason that convinced you to give yoga a try.”

“What makes you think there was a special reason?”

“Dude!” Sam exclaimed. He pulled out another troll.

“Seriously?” Dean said.

“At least it isn’t the Troll Mage or the ‘every monster moves up one ring’ token,” said Sam. “Now are you going to tell us or not?”

“Fine. I met someone, we’ve gone out a couple times, and we decided to try yoga together.” Screw honesty, that was close enough to the truth.

“And we get to meet her…?” Sam let the question hang in the air.

“Later. The word boyfriend hasn’t even come up yet. It’s new. So just chill.”

“Would this be the same person who made you smile so much the other week?” Jess asked.

“Haven’t been out with anyone else,” answered Dean.

“But it’s going well?” asked Sam.

“I guess.”

“Have any Halloween plans?”

Dean narrowed his eyes at his brother. “If I did, I wouldn’t tell you.”

Sam looked offended, but Jess put a hand on his. “Sweetie, you do have a habit of crashing in on Dean’s relationships.”

“I just…” Sam paused. “I guess I just want you to be happy and settled. Like I am.”

“And I’ll get there,” Dean answered. “When I’m ready and have found the right person. We all can’t meet our soulmate on the first day of college.”

“It wasn’t the _first_ day,” Sam protested.

“Close enough,” Jess said.

“Whose side are you on?” Sam asked.

“The goblins’ and trolls’ since they’re going to slaughter us.” She stood up. “Beer?”

The brothers answered in the affirmative. Jess brought two beers and a ginger ale from the kitchen.

“Yes!” Dean shouted. “A boulder has taken out those three trolls and an orc.”

“And our castle wall,” Sam complained.

“Dude, we can rebuild that. It didn’t get the tower.”

Jess rolled her eyes and opened her soda. “Sometimes I wonder why I married into this family.”

“Because you love me” and “Because we’re awesome” were the responses from the brothers.

* * *

 

“Would you say this movie is so bad it’s funny?” Cas asked.

“Maybe. All I know is that not even a bisexual Catherine Zeta-Jones can save this movie from being total shit.”

It was Friday and their movie date night. They’d started with The Haunting, specifically the 1963 original and were now over halfway through the 1999 remake. Dean was surprised that the black and white film had been not only a good movie, but it was also almost terrifying. No visible spooks, no special effects, and no overuse of jump scares. It was all creepy atmosphere and a woman having a mental breakdown. Next to that, the 1999’s version with horrible writing, obvious CGI, and Owen Wilson was just ridiculous. Scooby-Doo was scarier.

“It’s definitely an insult to Robert Wise’s original,” said Cas. “I don’t know why they thought they could improve something directed by the same man that directed The Sound of Music and worked on Citizen Kane.”

“Maybe because he also directed the first Star Trek movie and that was boring as fuck.”

“If fucking is boring then you’re doing it wrong.”

Dean just about choked on his beer. “Yeah, uh, you’ve got a point,” he gasped out.

Cas merely nodded. They kept watching the movie. Dean couldn’t help comparing this horror movie date with ones he had had with women in the past. Usually the film would be so scary they’d be clinging onto him, or have jumped into his lap. Wasn’t that the whole point of scary movies? Though thinking about Rhonda Hurley, she hadn’t been scared but turned on by the really frightening gore-fest movies. He still ended up with a girl on his lap.

Cas, however, wasn’t the least bit nervous. Granted, they’d chosen one movie he’d seen many times before, and the other was about as frightening as milk two weeks past its sell-by date !. Cas wasn’t clingy or jumpy, but he did sit incredibly close to Dean on the couch. It was nice. Dean’s arm wanted to wrap over Cas’ shoulders, but he wasn’t sure if he should. In Dean’s experience, a move like that usually led to ignoring the movie and making out. But Cas seemed really into the movie. That was also different from pretty much all past dates.

The thing that was the most different of all was the way Cas knit while watching the movie. His eyes would be on the TV, but his hands never stopped moving. Dean tried to copy him and practice his own knitting skills, but he didn’t seem to have the same skill at multitasking. And there were other things he’d rather do with his hands. Like run one through that impossible bird’s nest on top of Cas’ head. It would be so easy for Dean to drape his arm behind Cas’ back and let his fingers play with that soft, dark hair.

Oh what the hell, right? This was a date and he could touch the guy. And it wouldn’t even disrupt the guy’s knitting.

He was starting to move his arm, but Cas suddenly stood up while grabbing their empty pizza plates from the coffee table. Quickly, Dean made it look like he was just stretching; Cas didn’t seem to notice.

“Why are people so obsessed with giving a haunting a back story with just one evil person behind it all?” Cas ranted as he put the dirty plates in Dean’s kitchen sink. “The reason the original and the book work so well is that there’s no reason for the haunting. It’s just an evil house! I think I’d like a piece of your pie.”

Dean nodded as his brain went to all sorts of lewd responses he could make. He shook those thoughts away when Cas came back from the kitchen with two plates of pie and handed him one. This man was fast becoming Dean’s favorite person.

“Yeah, I know,” Dean said at last. “That’s what I really liked about the other one. It was way creepier without any explanation. Just a bad house with some really bad juju running through it.”

“Exactly! If you liked it, then I recommend reading the book by Shirley Jackson.”

“Does The Mummy have a book it’s based on?” Dean asked.

“I don’t believe so. There are some short stories that may have influenced it. I think one was written by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.”

“The Sherlock guy? Cool.”

Finally the movie ended and they switched to the old black and white Boris Karloff movie. There were definitely some similarities that Dean noticed, and the alias the mummy used gave him a quick guffaw. It wasn’t the most riveting movie, but it wasn’t bad. It was also short. But it was nearly midnight by the time it was over.

“So, do we wanna wait and do the remake another night?” Dean asked when the Karloff movie was over.

Cas frowned. “It is late, but it would break the whole theme of the evening with making comparisons.”

“Maybe we should have thought this through better when we picked out four movies.”

“Perhaps.”

“Or you could stay the night.” Dean didn’t even have time to think before those words were out of his mouth.

“Really?” Cas asked. “Would you be comfortable with that?”

“Sure. I’m game if you are. I’ve got an extra toothbrush and some pajamas you could borrow. We’re about the same size. Huh, an unexpected bonus of dating a guy.”

“It does have its perks,” Cas agreed. “Sure. I’ll sleep here.”

“Alright, back to the marathon.”

“Because a marathon is twenty six miles, wouldn’t we have to watch twenty six movies to call it that?”

“Just watch the movie, Cas.”

Maybe it was the late hour, maybe it was knowing that Cas was staying overnight, but whatever it was it gave Dean the courage to move his arm again. When Cas squirmed slightly at the scarabs being dumped into the sarcophagus with Imhotep, Dean wrapped his arm around Cas’ shoulders. Cas didn’t jump in his lap, and it didn’t lead to a makeout session, but he did lean into Dean and put down the knitting. That was pretty awesome too. They spent the whole movie like that. Dean did crane his neck once or twice to make sure Cas hadn’t fallen asleep. He didn’t; Cas seemed pretty engrossed.

“So?” Dean asked when it was done. “What’d you think?”

“It was very good,” Cas replied. “I liked the changes and the different focus. There was a lot of humor that I wasn’t expecting.”

Dean smiled at the way Cas’ eyes lit up while he talked.

“Let me grab those pajamas so you can change while I set up the couch.”

“Alright. Though I’m not sure how I’ll sleep. I’m not as tired as I should be given it’s almost two in the morning.”

“Yeah,” Dean shouted from the bedroom. He brought out a t-shirt and sweatpants. “I guess the movie got me pretty wired. It’ll probably be different when my head hits the pillow. You aren’t working tomorrow, are you?”

“Thankfully no,” said Cas, taking the offered garments. “You?”

“Nope. Free as a bird tomorrow.”

“Maybe we should do something.”

Dean laughed. “What, not sick of me yet?”

“I don’t think that’s possible,” Cas said sincerely.

“Huh,” was Dean’s eloquent response.

He was about to turn and grab some blankets from the hall closet when Cas stopped him. He grabbed Dean’s neck with his free hand and pulled them together. Dean immediately reciprocated the kiss. Every nerve in his body was on fire. His heart was doing cartwheels in his chest. There was some pull inside him to cling onto Cas and never let him go. After too short a time and not enough tongue, they broke for air.

“I apologise,” Cas said softly, “but I’ve wanted to do that all evening.”

Dean let out a breathy laugh. “I’m not objecting.”

Cas pressed his lips to Dean’s again in short, teasing kisses. Dean didn’t think a sheet of paper could fit in the space between them, they stood that close. “You should get those blankets.”

Dean didn’t move. Cas’ breath on his face was driving all thoughts but one from Dean’s brain. Not surprising since his blood was more interested in moving down south. “It’s our third date. Do I really need to get those blankets?”

“I think I’d be cold on the couch without them,” said Cas, not getting Dean’s point.

“What if you didn’t sleep on the couch?” Dean tried again, but Cas still looked confused. How this man could be sexually aggressive one minute and totally naive the next never ceased to amaze him. It was probably Meg’s influence. “The third date sometimes means sex, Cas.”

“Oh. I didn’t mean to… I didn’t think you were ready… Um…”

“You’re really adorable when you’re flustered,” Dean joked.

Cas laughed, but then regained some seriousness and took a step back. “Are you sure?”

“Well, you’re kind of killing the mood, dude.”

“Dean, be serious. You’ve had some alcohol, it’s late, and I wouldn’t want you to rush into physical intimacy because of social expectations.”

“It’s not… I’m not even close to drunk. It’s you, Cas. I want you. Plain and simple. Is it too soon for _you_?”

“No, but it’s the first time you’ve been with another man, isn’t it? I assumed you’d need more time.”

Dean sat down on the couch. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m not ready to jump in all the way, especially not with the heat of the moment gone, but… How about we share my bed, make out like randy teenagers, and if it leads to a bit of hands in the pants then woohoo the evening gets a happy ending?”

Cas looked uncertain, but Dean could tell he was tempted. “That does sound enjoyable.”

Dean stood and walked over to him. Grabbing Cas by the waist, he kissed him long and slow.

“You haven’t even bought me dinner yet,” Cas complained half-heartedly.

“We’ll do that next time.”

“Very well. I still need to put these on.” Cas held up the pajamas.

“Right. Bathroom’s just there. Extra toothbrushes are in the bottom drawer. I’ll clean up out here.”

It took only a few minutes before they were both in pajamas and getting into Dean’s wonderfully comfortable memory foam bed. Dean’s earlier prediction of being tired as soon as he hit the pillow proved true for both of them. They exchanged a few sleepy kisses before Cas was spooning around Dean and they were fast asleep.

Dean woke up the next morning with an arm still around him. He smiled. As nice as it would be to just sink back against Cas in the warm bed, his stomach had other ideas. Carefully, Dean got out of bed and made sure the blankets still covered Cas while he slept. After a stop to the bathroom, Dean went into the kitchen and started breakfast. Since he had eggs that were getting a bit old and plenty of bread, Dean decided to make French toast. He also got some bacon frying and the coffee pot boiling. Sometime after the coffee was ready, Cas came into the kitchen looking like an extra from The Walking Dead.

“Good morning, sunshine,” Dean said cheerfully.

Cas merely grunted and poured coffee into one of the mugs Dean had pulled out earlier.

“Okay, not a morning person.”

Cas glared and sat down at the kitchen table. Rather than be put off by the grumpy mood, Dean continued cheerfully cooking. He set two plates on the table and put a platter with bacon and a pile of French toast in the middle. He didn’t know how Cas liked his toast, and didn’t want to ask, so he just grabbed everything he could think of: butter, syrup, strawberry jam, and powdered sugar. Before sitting, he placed a quick kiss to Cas’ forehead.

“You are disgustingly cheerful,” Cas grumbled, but the barest smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “But the coffee is good, and this food looks wonderful, so I may have to put up with you.”

Dean just grinned while shoving a piece of bacon in his mouth. Cas shook his head and started eating. By the end of breakfast he looked almost human again. Dean cleared the dishes while Cas drank his third cup of coffee.

“So are you sick of me yet, or do you have any ideas on what we could do today?” Dean asked.

“There’s the Natural History Museum at the University of Kansas. One of the exhibits includes a live beehive inside a tree.”

“Sure. Why not? Let’s go look at bees. I’m driving.”

“Do you have something against my car?”

“What? Nooooooo.” His tone was completely unconvincing.

“I’ll need to go to my apartment and change.”

“Or you could borrow something of mine,” Dean suggested.

Cas smirked. “If I keep wearing your clothes someone might get the impression that I’m your boyfriend.”

Once again, Dean was blushing to the same shade of red as a ripe tomato. “Let’s find you something to wear and then go see those bees.”

* * *

 

On Halloween, Cas had plans with Meg. She was dragging him to some haunted trail/haunted hayride/haunted house extravaganza thing. Cas said he would have invited Dean to come with them, but they had bought tickets long in advance. Dean didn’t really mind because Jo had organized a bit of a party at the Roadhouse. Ellen didn’t usually do Halloween, but somehow Jo got her to relent this year. Anyone with a costume would get one free drink. Apparently taking business classes at KU and working on the accounting for both the Roadhouse and _Singer’s_ finally got Ellen listening to Jo’s ideas.

When Dean got to the Roadhouse, it was nearly packed full. He went straight to the bar to find Jo. Instead he saw Ash behind the bar pouring drinks.

“Well howdy, cowboy,” Ash greeted. “What’s your poison?”

“A pint of whatever beer you’ve got special.” The house brews Ellen and Ash concocted each season were guaranteed to be good.

“You got it. You’ll find the usual party at the booth farthest from the restrooms.”

“Thanks, man.” Dean took his beer and found the table. Around the booth sat Benny, Andrea, Jess, Sam, Pamela, and Jo. Sam didn’t look too happy, but that could have been because Pam had pinched his ass again, or because Benny was back in town. It was a 6 to 1, half a dozen the other thing.

“Hey, brother,” Benny greeted, “pull up a chair.”

Dean grabbed a chair from a nearby table and sat in it next to Benny, who had apparently come as Captain Crunch.

“Gee, Winchester, that’s an elaborate costume you’ve got there,” Jo said sarcastically.

He was wearing his usual jeans and flannel; he tipped his not-usual stetson at her. “Nothing wrong with being a cowboy,” he said.

“Yeah huh, on a steel horse you ride,” Jo shot back. “Lame!” Jo was dressed as a deer with her makeup and doe ears on a headband. But she had added a gruesome, bloody buckshot wound on her shoulder to complete the look.

Dean ignored Jo and looked around at the rest of the costumes. Andrea was dressed as a pirate wench, Pamela was some gypsy fortune teller, Jess was Rainbow Bright, and Sam came as the asshole who hated Halloween and refused to wear a costume. It was his annual go-to costume.

“Where’s your hot date?” Benny asked Dean.

“Wait. Why does Benny know who you’re dating?” Sam demanded.

“He bumped into us the other day and they met; it’s no big deal,” Dean replied. “But to answer your question: previous plans prevent them from joining us. I didn’t want to be a third wheel.”

“Gotcha,” Benny replied with a wink.

“As fun as Dean’s love life probably isn’t because I’m not in it,” said Pam, “I need another drink. Can I get anything for anyone else?”

“I’d love another Roy Rogers,” Jess said.

“Sure thing, sweetie.”

“What’s a Roy Rogers?” Dean asked while Pamela walked away.

“Rum and coke,” answered Jess.

Benny snorted a bit in his drink and ended up coughing. “Wrong pipe,” he gasped out eventually. “Though speakin’ of the wrong pipe, did I ever tell you guys about the time I switched old MacLeod's pipe tobacco with hamster scat?”

The rest of the night was a pleasant party of friends. Jo was back and forth, splitting her time between them and the bar. The biggest highlight for Dean was when he got a picture from Cas. He burst out laughing. Meg had chosen the costume, so Cas was dressed as Dorothy in a blue gingham dress, fake braids clearly made of yarn and attached to a headband, and bright red tennis shoes. He even carried a basket with a plush dog peeking out. He showed Benny the picture.

Benny whistled. “Damn, brother, that is one hot Dorothy you’re dating.”

“When are you going to remember you’re married?” Dean asked.

“Probably never,” Sam said as he returned from the bar and slid back into the booth next to Jess. Dean tried to not be obvious about hiding his phone.

“Ah, you’re just jealous I never hit on you,” Benny quipped.

“Just don’t hit on _my_ wife,” Sam shot back.

“Hey!” Jess cried. “Why am I the only one that doesn’t get hit on?”

“I don’t get to tell her she’s just glowing so bright with beauty tonight?” Benny asked. Jess lifted her glass in thanks.

Sam looked at Andrea. “This doesn’t bother you?”

“It’s just joking, Sam,” she replied. “There’s only one port where this captain moors his boat.”

Benny smiled and kissed his wife. “We should weigh anchor and head home. Goodnight everyone.”

The party slowly broke up. Jess needed one last trip to the restroom before leaving, so Dean waited with Sam just outside of the Roadhouse. He would have left, but Sam had a look on his face that Dean knew all too well. It was his “we’ve gotta talk” face.

“Sam, don’t.”

He did anyway. “I just don’t get it, Dean. Why are you so secretive about this with me, but everyone else seems to know?”

“It’s not everyone! I needed Charlie to talk me into the dating, and Benny just ran into us on a date completely by accident. It’s new, it’s moving kind of fast, and I don’t want you to get your hopes up. I’m wrestling with a big commitment here. I need to do this at my pace, on my own.”

“Fine, if that’s what you need.”

Jess walked out the door. “Ready to go?”

“Yeah. See ya, Dean.”

* * *

 

Sam’s Yellow Legal Pad

 

Clues

Defensive about being caught smiling

Met “someone” but won’t say who

Says it’s different and not dating

Charlie won’t spill the details

Same defensive reaction to question about knitting

Did yoga without it being part of the bet

Didn’t want me to know he was at my gym

Thinks Lisa is hot

Lisa is a single mother

She had plans for Halloween long in advance

She dressed as Dorothy

Says it’s a big commitment

Says it’s moving fast

Wants me not to know but fine with friends

 

Conclusions

~~There’s something embarrassing about this new person y/n?~~

She’s connected to Dean’s learning how to knit y/n?

~~Hasn’t asked her out yet~~

~~~~Dean is dating Lisa y ~~/n?~~

 ~~ ~~ It’s different because she has a kid and that means more commitment

~~Embarrassed because she works with me y/n?~~

Lisa’d have plans with her son trick or treating, and would wear a child themed costume

I work with Lisa and he doesn’t want me talking him up in case that changes things

 

Questions still to answer

~~Why no details?~~

~~In what ways is this different?~~

~~ ~~ Why is Charlie not sharing everything she knows?

How is Lisa connected to the knitting?

* * *

 

_[12:22pm] How do u fight a killer bee?_

_[12:22pm] w/a buzz-ooka_

**[2:46pm] XD**

_[7:21pm] I heard that at work & thought you’d like it_

**[7:23pm] Are you working this weekend?**

_[7:23pm] Just a morning shift on Sat_

**[7:24pm] Would you like to go to dinner that night?**

_[7:24pm] Yes. Where did you have in mind?_

**[7:25pm] One of the few cousins I’m fond of recently built a restaurant in the area and has been asking me to try it. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯**

_[7:26pm] How fancy is it?_

**[7:26pm] Business casual should be fine.**

_[7:26pm] Wouldn’t you rather go with the cousin?_

**[7:28pm] No. While I’m fond of him, sharing a meal with him can be trying. I’d like to give him an honest opinion of the restaurant without him coloring the experience. : /**

_[7:28pm] I UNDERSTAND. That’s how I feel about telling Sam about us._

_[7:29pm] It’s not like I want to hide you_

**[7:29pm] I didn’t think that.**

_[7:30pm] And I don’t want you to think I’m ashamed. We’re open-minded people_

**[7:30pm] It’s fine, Dean. As you said, I understand. :)**

* * *

 

Dean hated the agonizing process of choosing an outfit. As a simple mechanic, he didn’t need much in the way of suits or ties. He didn’t do fancy. Anything he did own of that sort usually came from a girlfriend, and that didn’t feel very appropriate to wear. But why was he freaking out over this? Clothes were clothes. He didn’t want to embarrass Cas, so he finally settled on the trousers from a black suit, a red plaid button-down not made of flannel and not from an ex-girlfriend, and a black tie he was almost certain Jess had given him for his birthday last year.

For one brief moment, he considered picking up a rose or something. That thought was quickly crushed, however, and Dean decided he wasn’t ready to go that chick-flick yet.

Dean arrived a little early to Cas’ apartment building, a really tall modern-looking thing. He refused to be a date that sits in the parking lot and honks. But he wasn’t two steps out of his car before Cas exited the building. Dean was too distracted by the sight of him to be upset. He was wearing very dark jeans with a grey dress shirt covered by a black blazer. God, it was the hottest thing Dean had seen in a long while. And he was pretty sure that included Scarlett Johansson in a catsuit. The only problem was that Cas’ usually messy hair had been tamed and was far too neat. Dean’s hand itched to fix it.

“I was waiting in the lobby,” Cas said as he approached.

“You sure you’re not just making sure I never see your apartment? Are you a hoarder, Cas?”

He laughed. “Maybe I just couldn’t wait to see you again.”

“Would you like a little wine with that cheese you’re laying on?”

“Wine with dinner sounds rather nice. It’s a shame I won’t be able to ask Balthazar what he recommends.”

“Balthazar must be your cousin.”

“The name give it away?”

“Noooo,” Dean drawled sarcastically, “it was a total shot in the dark. So where is cousin Balthazar’s restaurant?”

“Massachusetts and Washington,” Cas replied. “It’s called _Notorious_.”

“I really hope that’s a reference to the Hitchcock film and not the Duran Duran single.”

“Knowing him, either is possible. We shouldn’t be finding out tonight, though.”

“Do you have some sort of cunning plan?”

“Since Balthazar can be… intense, I picked an early reservation so he wouldn’t be around. He prefers working later in the evenings.”

“Good plan.”

The rest of the drive was filled with the sounds of Jimmy Page’s guitar. Dean was determined to educate Cas in good music. Led Zeppelin was better than Dire Straits, end of story. By the time they had parked and shut off the engine, Cas’ opinion still wasn’t budging, but Dean would wear him down eventually.

They went inside, and Dean took in his surroundings while Cas approached the hostess. It was mostly modern in style, but with touches that evoked a bit of 1920s Chicago speakeasy. The lighting was appropriately atmospheric for romantic dining, but not too heavy handed for those having a business meeting over a meal.

“Cassie, darling!” The voice was British and belonged to a blond man wearing a silver suit with a deep v-necked black shirt underneath.

“Balthazar,” Cas grumbled. “What are you doing here?”

“I work here, dear. Remember? I’m the owner, and as the owner I’ll show you two to your table. Thank you, Trixie.” He took a couple menus from the hostess and motioned for them to walk with him. “Cassie, tell me if I’m wrong, but I remember asking you to come join me for supper one night. Now that the place has opened and is doing so well, family should come and celebrate with me. I thought it would be me and you, maybe you’d bring that ill-tempered demon you consider a friend. What was her name? Hag? Mag?”

“Meg.”

They arrived at a small round table with a good view of an open dance floor. There was even a small jazz band setting up around a piano. Dean and Cas sat, and to Cas’ continued annoyance, Balthazar pulled a chair from another table and sat as well, still talking. “Now imagine my shock when you make a reservation without saying a word to me, and for so early in the evening that I’d miss you entirely.”

“That was the idea,” Castiel muttered.

Balthazar continued, ignoring Cas’ comment. “I’d think you were avoiding me.”

“Yes.”

“Something like that happens, I have to know what’s going on. I made extra sure I’d be here to say hello and who is this delicious piece of man-cake you’ve brought?”

“Intense is not the word I would have used,” Dean said out of the corner of his mouth to Cas.

“I’m sorry,” Cas responded. “Dean, this is Balthazar. Balthazar, this is Dean, who I would appreciate you not harassing or interrogating in any way, shape, or form.”

Balthazar leaned back with a hand thrown over his heart. “Cassie, I’m offended you would even think I would do such a thing.”

Cas glared at him.

“If you’re going to order the steak—I know how you boys love your meat—I recommend getting the 1984 Château de Beauvoisin to go with it.”

Cas looked ready to punch his cousin in the jaw.

“So _Notorious_?” Dean said, trying to break the tension. “Duran Duran or Alfred Hitchcock?”

“Given the condescension in your tone I’m tempted to say Duran Duran just to annoy you,” Balthazar replied. “But take a look around and have a guess.”

“I didn’t know Hitchcock was into pretentious douchebaggery,” Cas mumbled.

“Oh, Cassie, you’re feisty tonight.”

Castiel still glared.

“Fine! Don’t get your knickers all in a twist. I’ll leave you two to your date.” He stood up. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“There _isn’t_ anything you wouldn’t do,” Cas growled.

Balthazar merely winked and walked away.

“So,” Dean said slowly and opened the menu. “What to order? I want to say _not_ the steak just to spite him, but damn, that sounds good.”

“It does,” Cas agreed with equal dismay. “Maybe we could select a different wine.”

“I’m not really good with choosing wine. I’m more of a beer and whiskey guy.”

“Not helpful when I really wanted a glass of wine.”

Notwithstanding the rough beginning, dinner was excellent. The food was superb and Balthazar’s wine choice infuriatingly apropos. Though Dean might have wished the food less delicious due to the moans of pleasure coming from Castiel; they shot straight to his groin and made him grateful for the napkin over his lap. He tried to distract himself with their conversation. Subjects ranged from ideal vacations (a week in Italy and a weekend in Vegas) to pet peeves they had about their siblings (an overly judgmental and self-important sister and a brother who needs a haircut). It was late in the evening before they finally got up from the table.

They hadn’t moved ten steps towards the door when the band’s music transitioned from a nondescript melody into a smooth jazz improvisation of Duran Duran’s _Notorious_. They saw Balthazar across the restaurant giving them a mock salute.

“There’s a word I’d really like to use,” Dean grumbled.

Cas linked an arm around Dean’s and forced him to keep walking. “Not here, Dean.”

Led Zeppelin continued to provide the soundtrack on the drive back to Castiel’s apartment. This time Dean parked the car and walked with Cas to his door inside the building.

“This was a wonderful evening.”

“We’re definitely doing it again. Maybe without the douchebag cousin though.”

He smiled, standing so close that Dean could smell the wine and chocolate from dessert on his breath. “Would you like to come in?”

“Cas, you do know what will happen if I walk through that door, right?”

“I’m counting on it.”

Dean grinned and followed Cas into the apartment. It was a large one room studio with a small kitchen along part of one wall, a bed to the far side, and a couch and chair in the middle with a TV. A whole wall was almost entirely made of windows with a view of a more historic part of town. While the windows left him feeling a little exposed, Dean loved the openness of the space.

“Do the windows ever bother you?” Dean asked.

“The privacy? No. They’re specially tinted, so people usually can’t see in. And there are screens that drop down if I need more privacy.”

Cas must have pushed a button or something, because sure enough, screens descended from the top of the windows.

“Awesome.” Dean turned and his jaw dropped. Cas had removed the jacket and was unbuttoning his shirt. Oh god that tanned skin. “Really awesome.”

Dean was on Cas in less than a second. He helped Cas push off the shirt and then ran his hands over that gorgeous chest. Their mouths met in a heated kiss, each desperately trying to melt into the other. Hands now gliding over the smooth planes of Cas’ unbelievably toned back muscles, Dean finally got to taste Cas’ neck. The five o’clock stubble scratched his face just the right way to send bolts of pleasure coursing through him.

“You’re wearing too much clothing,” Cas said with a moan.

“We should fix that,” Dean answered.

He pulled away to start unbuttoning his shirt. Cas had his hands on the tie, but he didn’t remove it. Instead, with a lusty grin, he pulled Dean by the tie over to the bed.

“Should I keep it on?” Dean asked.

“Maybe next time,” Cas replied. He loosened the tie and pulled it over Dean’s head.

Shirts abandoned on the floor, their pants soon followed. Cas cupped his hand around Dean’s dick through his briefs.

“Holy shit!” Dean gasped. The things Cas was doing just with a few fingers through fabric had Dean seeing stars. It was suddenly dawning on him that a man was intimately familiar with how to get the most pleasure with a dick. That… that was a very good thing. Why hadn’t he tried this sooner? God, he was an idiot.

As he tried not to swoon like some blushing virgin, Dean leaned into Cas and felt a warm bulge hard against his thigh. He looked down at Cas’ tented navy boxers. What the hell, right? He pulled away and in one quick move yanked down Cas’ boxers while going to his knees.

“Dean,” Cas moaned. That deep, throaty sound made his dick strain harder.

Dean wrapped a hand around Cas’ dick, getting a feel for it. It wasn’t that much unlike his own, maybe a little shorter and a bit thicker. Using techniques he enjoyed when it was just him and his hand, Dean squeezed up and down with a slight twisting action and ran a thumb over the head. From Cas’ gasps and the way he grabbed at Dean’s hair, Dean could tell it worked for Cas just as well as it did for him.

Gaining confidence, Dean had the irresistible urge to run his tongue over that weeping head. He gave into temptation. It was bitter, salty, and very strange, but not unpleasant given the inhuman growl that came out of Cas.

Cas pulled Dean to his feet and crashed their lips and tongues together. Cas’ hands pulled at Dean’s briefs, and they separated only long enough for Dean to step out of them. Mouths once again devouring each other, Cas walked backwards to the bed and Dean was gladly forced to follow. At the edge of the bed they toppled over. Cas used a hand to hold their dicks as he began thrusting back and forth. The friction and heat was driving Dean insane for release. It wasn’t long before both men were coming in a sticky mess between them.

“Fuck,” Dean panted. “That was…”

“Yeah,” Cas agreed. He took a moment before standing and going to the nightstand next to the bed. He pulled out a few baby wipes and cleaned them up. “Stay with me?”

Dean nodded and got under the covers while Cas threw away the soiled wipes. He joined Dean in the bed and they laid side by side on their backs.

“Hey, Cas,” Dean said as his breathing slowly returned to normal. “Do you wanna be my boyfriend?”

Cas rolled over on top of him and kissed him long and slow.

“So was that a yes?”

“Yes, Dean, I will be your boyfriend, if you will be mine.”

“Fuck yeah.”

Cas dropped his head to Dean’s shoulder and started laughing.

“What?” Dean asked.

“Romance really isn’t your thing,” Cas replied.

“Shut up.” Dean kissed him again to make sure he would.

* * *

 

Dean stretched as he slowly woke up. He craned his neck for sight of a clock: 7:04 am. There was movement beside him. Dean looked as Cas rolled over to face him, eyes still closed. Cas’ arm and leg hooked around Dean and there was a mumbled “no” from the head buried in the pillow.

Dean smiled. There really wasn’t any point in trying to get up. He was warm and comfortable and this wasn’t cuddling. This was being forcibly snuggled by a grumpy koala.

Last night was incredible. It hadn’t ended with just one orgasm. They fooled around a couple more times, and there was even a blow job so mind-blowingly awesome that Dean could have proposed on the spot. But as it was, they were boyfriends. Holy shit, Dean Winchester has a boyfriend. Staring at the bird’s nest masquerading as hair next to him, Dean was pretty okay with that. Still smiling, he slowly drifted back to sleep.

When he woke up again, Cas was gone. Dean sat up and heard a toilet flushing. Cas emerged from the bathroom wearing jeans and a t-shirt. He walked to the bed and sat on the edge to lean over and kiss Dean.

Dean pulled back slightly. “Dude, I’ve got morning breath.”

“Don’t care,” Cas replied. As they kissed, Dean could tell that Cas at least had brushed his teeth while in the bathroom. Well, if Cas didn’t have a problem then who was Dean to argue?

“Breakfast?” Dean asked when they parted.

“As it’s after ten on a Sunday, I think we have to call it brunch.”

“Whatever we call it, I’d like to eat.”

“I don’t really have anything here to cook,” said Cas. “There’s a bakery just the other side of the next block. Their coffee is very good.”

“Sounds great. You got anything I can wear? Last night’s duds are a bit fancy for brunch.”

Cas playfully pushed him back on the bed before getting up and going to his armoire. He tossed some clothes at Dean. “Hurry up. I need coffee.”

“Alright, honeybunch, I’m moving.”

It was a chilly fall morning, so they decided to just walk to the bakery. On the way out of Cas’ apartment building, Dean noticed that Cas’ hand twitched a few times, like he was about to take Dean’s hand but changed his mind. Once outside, Dean made the choice for him and grabbed his hand. The air was quite cold, so holding hands was really more for warmth than anything else.

The bakery was a small place that smelled like absolute heaven: cinnamon, sugar, chocolate, coffee, and so many more scents mixed in the air. Dean looked over the display cases and menu above wondering how he could ever choose what to order. Luckily, there was no one else in line so he had some time to decide. Wait! There was pie. Decision over.

“Good morning,” greeted the girl behind the counter. “What can I get for you two?”

“Two coffees, black, a honey almond bear claw, and…” Cas turned to Dean. “What would you like, Dean?”

“Two slices of that Dutch apple,” Dean said as he pointed to the pie.

“Two?” Cas queried while he took Dean’s share of the money and handed it with his own to the girl.

“I’m hungry.”

They took their order and sat at one of the small bistro tables by the window. The silence between them as they ate the pastry and sipped their coffee was comfortable. It was pleasant and peaceful… until Cas stole Dean’s fork to take a small bite of his pie while he was distracted with a big sip of coffee.

“Hey!” Dean cried as he swiped his now empty fork back. “Do you have a death wish? Because stealing my pie is a hanging offence.”

Cas smirked. “You’ll need a warrant first.”

“Yeah, well… your face needs a warrant.” Dean frowned at the lameness of his awful comeback.

Cas was unfazed. “Are you saying I’m criminally handsome?”

Dean glared at him half-heartedly. “Shut up.”

“If I do that then I won’t be able to tell you that the pie my boyfriend makes is much better than that one you’ve got there.”

“Still doesn’t mean you can steal it,” Dean grumbled. He looked down at his plate to hide the smile he felt tugging at his mouth.

* * *

 

Dean stared at the screen of his laptop, hands hovering over the keys. How the hell was he supposed to do this?

The reason for this particular staring contest was, quite frankly, embarrassing. One night of fooling around with another man’s dick and the next day Dean was wondering how dude on dude sex worked. He’d gone that night on the basis of what felt good when he was having quality time alone with himself. He knew there was more to it than that, and he had a rough idea, but he needed more details if he was going to jump into this.

For instance, how did they decide who was pitching and who was catching? Who’s on first? Third Base!

Good god, man, get a hold of yourself. Joking might be a knee-jerk defense mechanism, but this was serious.

Did he just Google it? Oh, what the hell, right?

Dean spent an hour going through medical websites, LGBTQ blogs, and even a few porn sites. By the end of it he was straining in his pants, and was 1000% certain he was bisexual. More than that, from what turned him on the most, it looked like he might be into catching that baseball.

He needed a drink… after deleting his browser history.

Dean pulled a beer out of his fridge. He turned on the TV to distract his thoughts away from all the images he now had in his head of different sexual positions he could try out with Cas. Flipping through channels, he passed a Victoria’s Secret commercial.

What would Cas think about the few pairs of panties he had hidden in one of his drawers? Damn Rhonda Hurley for introducing Dean to that kink. It was weird, right?

Why was he still thinking about kinks? He changed the channel a few more times. A dog food commercial. Iron Man 2 again. Meh. Weather channel. A commercial for some medication showing couples in rowboats on a lake and others doing yoga.

That reminded him that he had promised to join Castiel’s yoga class again tomorrow. Dean didn’t know what worried him more: running into Sam and revealing he has a boyfriend, or spending the whole time thinking of different ways his boyfriend could bend in the bedroom. Dean could back out. He was sure that Cas would understand. But at the same time, if Dean could be a little more flexible as well…

Dammit. Why couldn’t he stop thinking about sex? He wasn’t some randy, hormonal teenager anymore. Maybe he could just put it down to that whole honeymoon phase of a relationship. Either way, he needed to think about something else.

He flipped to the History Channel just in time to see a big Forged in Fire logo on a sword. Guys in goggles were standing around while an Asian dude took a knife to a sandbag. The guy then smiled and said, “It weeel cut.”

“Hell yeah, that’ll cut,” Dean muttered.

By the end of the episode, Dean was hooked. Cas had been spot on recommending it to him. Finally, Dean’s brain focused on something else.

* * *

 

**[10:06am] Did you know it would take about 400000000 M &Ms to measure the length of the Mississippi River? 8-0**

_[10:09am] Y measure a river when u could just eat them?_

**[10:13am] So you would eat all 400000000 M &Ms if you had to measure the Mississippi River with them? **

_[10:14am] Uh yeah_

**[10:14am] Interesting**

**[10:16am] What’s your age and shoe size?**

_[10:16am] why?_

**[10:17am] It’s part of an equation in a book I’m reading, and I’m trying to see if it makes any sense. I don’t think it will. This book is very ridiculous.**

_[10:24am] Is that good or bad?_

**[10:24am] Good :D**

_[10:25am] I may have to see this book._

**[10:26am] I’ll check it out then.**

_[10:26am] You @ library?_

**[10:28am] Yes. I’m looking at children’s books for ideas. Many are simple math problems disguised in poetry or fables, but this one I’m reading now uses elements from math to create a very bizarre and nonsensical situation.**

_[10:30am] Now I really want to read it._

**[10:31am] It’s very amusing, but I don’t think I could write anything like it. :(**

_[10:35am] What about the other books?_

**[10:37am] Yes, I’m more familiar with how to write them. It’s really just a more creative way of delivering basic word problems. I’ve written hundreds of problems for textbooks. It should be fairly simple.**

_[10:38am] Doesn’t sound too fun._

**[10:41am] Perhaps not. :( My search for inspiration is not over. I’m sure I’ll find something. Thank you for talking about it with me. :)**

_[10:44am] Anytime. Bring some books when you come to my place tomorrow. Maybe 2 heads can figure something out._

**[10:44am] :D**

* * *

 

Dean sat knitting his scarf for Charlie with reruns of Dr. Sexy on in the background. He was starting to understand how Cas could knit while watching a movie, but he didn’t think he’d get so good at it that he didn’t have to watch what his hands were doing. He liked having something familiar on in the background to engage his mind while his hands worked. It felt like the knitting moved faster.

Anyway, it was a very pleasant way to spend his Friday off. Thank you Veterans’ Day for the three day weekend. He’d have to remember to text his dad some sort of special message tomorrow.

His phone vibrated with an incoming text message. Dean set aside the knitting, thinking that it was probably from Cas about some other weird book he’d found. The conversation yesterday had given him a smile while at work waiting for paint to dry between each coat on the car.

The text was from Jess. _–[11:46am] Hey Dean we should get together and talk Thanksgiving menu. I’m not shopping last minute again._

Oh man, that had been a disaster and a half. Every year, the Harvelles and the Winchesters traded who got to host Thanksgiving. Two years ago it had been the Winchesters’ turn, and between Dean getting slammed with a ton of jobs at work, and Jess and Sam getting the flu the first week of November, things had all been left to the last minute. Trying to grab the last can of pumpkin filling and getting pummeled in the stomach by a lady who looked like Methuselah’s mother and her brick-filled purse in the middle of Walmart had to be one of the lowest moments of his life. He hadn’t been able to touch a pumpkin pie that whole winter.

Dean texted back. – _[11:46am] Sure let me know where & when_

Dean picked up his knitting and waited for her to reply. Nurse Grable dramatically announced her pregnancy with the patient who had died earlier in the episode, and it cut to a commercial. Half way through a dragon filled ad for HBO, there was a knock from the front door. Dean walked over and looked through the peephole before opening the door.

“Here and now,” said Jess as she walked in and went straight to the kitchen table.

“Were you texting and driving?” Dean asked angrily.

“No, I drove,” Sam said as he walked in. “Sorry, I had to take a call. And yeah, sorry about her. We were on our way back from the farmer’s market and she insisted on stopping.”

The brothers shut the door and joined Jess. She had a planner, pen, notebook, and newspaper ads all set out with her. “So it’s gonna be at our place. We’ve got the usual seven minus Ash for the guest list—though that might be six if your Dad is busy working a case again—plus Charlie will be coming into town for the week. That’s back up to a probable eight.”

“Where’s Ash going?” Dean asked.

“He’s joining his girlfriend and her family this year,” Sam explained. “Oh, speaking of which, will your mystery date be making an appearance, or is it too soon?”

“Smooth, Sammy,” Dean deadpanned. “But we haven’t talked holidays yet. And yeah, I think a month is too soon.”

“I met Jess’ family that first Thanksgiving,” Sam said.

“Cuz you’re a giant freak of nature.”

“Boys, please. Dean, I know it’s really soon, but talk with her, make sure, and get back to me. Now let’s settle on a menu so I can know what to shop for and when.”

“You know,” said Dean, “you could have done this all with a phone call. The menu’s what it always is: turkey, potatoes, yams, rolls, gravy, cranberry sauce, and more pie than can fit on the table. Oh, and some sort of salad for Samantha.”

Sam rolled his eyes and sat on the couch. Jess kept talking about different foods and recipes, but Dean was preoccupied by Sam picking up the half-finished scarf.

“Hey!” Dean shouted. “Paws off.”

“Is this a Gryffindor scarf?” Sam asked.

“No,” grumbled Dean as he swiftly, but carefully enough not to push out the needles, took the scarf from Sam. It was a good thing he hadn’t started Sam’s yet, and Jess’ was in his room waiting to be wrapped.

“Thought you said Dean was more of a Hufflepuff?” Jess said without looking up from the notes she was making.

“Not a Gryffindor scarf!” Dean lied.

“Really?” Sam didn’t look convinced.

“Ever heard of USC? Maybe it’s just a scarf with those colors.”

“Fine.” Sam threw up his hands in defeat.

“Anyway, how long were you two sticking around here?” Dean asked. “Don’t you have green stuff wilting out in the car?”

“Yes, fine, I get the hint,” Jess said. “We’ll get out of your hair. But I expect to hear from you about this soon. Shopping will be done in advance!”

“Christ, woman,” Dean grouched, “it’s not like you were the one who got assaulted in Walmart.”

“How old and tiny was that woman again?” Sam teased.

“Shut it.”

“No,” Jess said to Dean, “I was the one who was nearly crushed grabbing the turkey.”

She grabbed Sam and they were gone. Dean sat back on the couch and returned to his Dr. Sexy knit-a-thon. A few episodes later, Dr. Liang was trying to convince Nurse Grable not to give her baby up for adoption while she was starting labor in an elevator trapped between floors, and meanwhile the whole hospital was under an emergency quarantine, and the new janitor was having an affair with three different women from the pharmacy and a male nurse in the pediatrics unit. One pharmacist was just overhearing another’s conversation with the janitor when there was another knock on Dean’s door.

“Hello, Dean,” Cas greeted when Dean let him in.

“Hey, babe,” replied Dean before giving him a brief yet thorough kiss. “What’s in the bag?”

“Books from the library.” They went to the couch and Cas looked at the scarf. “Didn’t you want to learn planned color pooling?”

“Yeah, for the scarf for my brother. It can wait. Show me those books you got. I’ve been dying to see the crazy one you mentioned.”

Cas pulled out a large, square book with the title _Math Curse_. “Can I change the channel?”

“What? You mean you don’t want to find out if the whole place has the plague?”

“Plague?”

“Yeah, weaponized and resistant to antibiotics. I’m dying to find out who’s got it and who hasn’t.”

Cas frowned.

“I’m joking, Cas. I’ve seen this before. Change it to whatever you want.”

“Thank you.”

Dean opened the book while Cas fiddle with the remote. It didn’t take long for him to start laughing. He was never a math guy, but this book was damn funny. Cas was logging into his Amazon account on the TV when Dean finished the book. He pulled another one out of the bag Cas brought. This one was _Sir Cumference and the First Round Table_. It wasn’t strange or surreal like _Math Curse_ , but it was still funny. Lady Di from Ameter, he chuckled to himself. It was really good at looking at basic geometry through a story too. This was more of a book that Dean could see Cas writing.

“What are we watching?” he asked after finishing the second book.

“Is Forged in Fire acceptable? I own it all digitally.”

“That’s awesome! I’ve watched some and it’s good. Plus I’ve gotta finish this scarf for Charlie.”

“She’s the one who you lost the bet to, right?”

“Yeah. I’ll need to finish and wrap this before hiding it if I want it to stay a surprise. She’s like a bloodhound when it comes to presents.”

“I thought you mentioned that she lived in Oklahoma?”

“Oh, yeah. She’s coming up here for Thanksgiving.” Dean watched Cas nod and look back at the TV. He really didn’t want to bring the holiday up, but it was the perfect opening right here. “You got any plans?”

Cas turned to him with a puzzled look. “For right now?”

“No, Thanksgiving.”

Cas sighed. “Usually I spend it alone. If Meg isn’t with her family in D.C., we’ll spend the day together and work the opening shift on Black Friday.”

“That what you’re doing this year?”

“No, she’ll be out of town.”

“What about your family?” Dean asked.

“I avoid them as much as possible when it comes to holidays. I’m not all that close with most of my sisters. As for our parents, they felt that holidays are more for religious observance than any sort of celebration. My sister Anna, who I do like, has an open invitation for me to join her family. But she lives in upstate New York, and travel can get difficult.”

“Wait. I’m still confused about your parents. How did they make Thanksgiving a religious thing? It’s all about stuffing your face with food till you bust a button off your pants.”

“Also a remembrance of Puritan forefathers that didn’t exactly get along with our Catholic ancestors. My parents made it a day of prayer, confession, and fasting.”

“That’s horrible!” Dean just about yelled. “You’ve never had a big family meal with tons of food and football?”

“No.”

“Well, you’re gonna get it this year. I mean… if you want… I guess.”

“Dean,” Cas said, making sure he locked eyes with Dean, “are you asking me to join you and your family for Thanksgiving?”

“Uh… well… I know it’s super soon. Probably too soon. You’ll probably say no. I mean, you can say no and I get it. It’s crazy. But… yeah. Yeah, I want you to come.” Dean was almost surprised at how much he really did mean those last words.

“I want to come… if you’re sure.”

“Definitely.”

“It’s a big step,” Cas added.

“Yeah, well…” Dean shrugged. “Gotta let ‘em know sometime.”

Cas’ eyes narrowed. “Dean Winchester, are you proposing to drop a dramatic piece of information—the first time you are in a relationship with another man—in the middle of this major holiday?”

“Uh… yeah?”

Cas looked thoughtful. “Could be fun.”

Dean laughed. “Are you serious? It could be a total disaster!”

“I sincerely doubt that. Or I’ve been talking to my cousin Gabriel too much recently.” He paused and hummed thoughtfully. “I believe I owe Charlie a special gift this Christmas.”

“Yeah? Why’s that?”

“Without her, you never would have walked into Michaels, and I never would have met you.”

“Huh. I guess that’s true. Dammit. She’ll never let me hear the end of it.”

“A small price to pay, I imagine.”

Dean just grumbled while they sat back and watched four smiths struggle with the challenge of creating a blade in three hours with some really messed up steel. Cas was right about it being a pretty cool show. Apparently there was plenty of drama when it came to quenching a blade: water was not the way to go. You’d think Cas was one of the judges with the ways he went on about the reasons to quench in oil.

“You gonna take up blacksmithing?” Dean asked. “Cuz that would be hot.”

“Considering the temperatures of the average forge, yes, it is an extremely hot activity.” There was a slight tilt to Cas’ lips. Dean was learning that it was a tell for when Cas was making a joke.

Dean playfully pushed Cas’ shoulder. “Ha ha.”

“Though I can see what you mean. Perhaps you should consider it for your next new hobby.”

“If you wanna see me shirtless and sweaty, all you have to do is ask.” Dean winked at him.

Cas smiled back and calmly took Dean’s knitting and set it in the magazine basket next to the couch. That done, he turned back and grabbed Dean into a heated kiss.

It only took a nip from Cas’ teeth for Dean to open his mouth and let their tongues tangle together. Without breaking the kiss, Cas climbed over to straddle Dean’s lap. The growing bulges in both their pants bumped and sent shockwaves through their bodies as Cas rocked his hips back and forth. His hands slid down from Dean’s neck, over his chest, and then slipped under his shirt to press into his flesh. The hands moved back upwards, pulling the shirt slowly up Dean’s torso, and pausing for the thumbs to rub circles over Dean’s sensitive nipples.

They broke apart so Cas could pull Dean’s shirt over his head and throw it onto the floor.

“Should we move this into the bedroom?” Dean asked.

“I think I’d rather take you apart here on this couch,” Cas answered. He lifted off Dean’s lap and tugged off Dean’s jeans and briefs with one quick motion. When did the little fucker undo his pants?

Dean didn’t have any time to ponder over that thought before Cas’ mouth engulf the head of Dean’s cock. Dean’s brain shut down as he gave into the sensations of that swirling tongue and hoovering mouth. One hand massaged his balls while the other moved over the shaft of his dick. Cas’ mouth moved up and down, pulling more of him in each time. The hand cupping his balls moved forward and fingers pressed around his hole. Oh my god that part of him was sensitive. Without even entering him, there were tiny bolts of lightning making his muscles clench and his hips push his cock further into Cas’ eager mouth. His research had been right—he’d really like to feel more down there.

“Fuck! Cas! Fuck me! Don’t stop! Oh my god, I’m gonna come! Aahh!”

When Cas finally released Dean’s cock, he had swallowed every drop and left Dean a limp puddle of over sensitized nerves.

“You’ve got quite the filthy mouth, Winchester.”

Dean laughed. “You wanna talk filthy mouths?” He pushed himself up on the couch to look at Cas kneeling in front of him. “Dude, you’re overdressed.”

Cas shrugged.

“Okay, this time we’re moving to the bedroom,” said Dean.

“Dean, you don’t—”

“No,” Dean cut him off. “We’re going to the bedroom, grabbing the lube, and seeing how fast you can get me hard again fucking me into the mattress.”

“Dean, wait—”

“No, Cas. That, that was awesome. And yeah, I’ve never done this, but I am one hundred percent sure I want to. God, you’re just so…” He couldn’t finish the sentence with any word that described that moment.

“I was going to say we should probably turn off the TV first,” Cas said.

Dean looked at the screen to see a different set of smiths in the forge. A new episode must have followed automatically after the first they were watching. Dean’s mouth hung open for a moment before he started to chuckle. He turned the TV off, helped Cas off the floor, and pulled him to the bedroom.

They made quick work of taking off Cas’ shirt. Dean loved the feeling of flesh against flesh as their chests pressed together. Boobs were fun, but muscles were awesome in a whole different way. Hard and smooth and no worries about pushing too hard.

“How do you want me?” Dean asked against Cas’ lips.

“Get on all fours on the bed,” Cas murmured back.

Dean detoured only to get lube and condoms from the bedside table while Cas stepped out of his pants and boxers. Handing them to his boyfriend, Dean climbed on the bed.

“Cat or cow pose?” Dean asked, remembering the terms from the yoga class.

Cas slapped Dean’s ass. “Quiet.”

“Yes, sir!” Dean grinned. Already he could feel the blood going back to his dick.

The bed shifted behind him with Cas’ weight. There was the click of the lube cap before Dean felt those fingers pressing around his hole again. It was different with the slickness of the lube, but still so tantalizingly good.

“Relax, Dean,” Cas said.

“Right,” Dean replied. “God, that feels…”

“Strange?”

“Awesome.”

“It’ll feel even more awesome if you relax enough for me to actually penetrate your ass.”

“You kiss your mother with that mouth?”

There was another swat to Dean’s ass cheeks. Grinning, he tried to get used to the feel of Cas’ fingers and not let his muscles tense up. A few deep breaths and there was a finger in Dean’s butt. Cas moved it gently, in and out, around and slowly stretching. After a minute or so, a second finger joined it. In and out. Oh fuck! He now knew what scissoring felt like. It was strange, like Cas had suggested, but it was still pretty awesome.

He was wrong. Cas crooked his fingers and rubbed something that set Dean’s whole body on fire with pleasure and need. _That_ was awesome! Dean moaned as Cas kept bumping that spot with his fingers. At some point a third finger joined them. There was a pinch of pain with the new stretch, but even that brought its own sort of pleasure. The fingers moved and twisted, hitting his prostate every so often, until that pinch faded. The stretch felt even more amazing now, but Dean still want more.

“C’mon, Cas, fuck me already.”

“As you wish,” Cas said.

Dean nearly whined when Cas pulled his hand out. He heard Cas putting on a condom and the cap of the lube again. He looked over his shoulder at Cas running the lube over his sheathed cock. Holy fuck, was that going to fit?

Cas must have sensed his hesitation. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

Dean took a deep breath. “Yeah. Let’s do this.”

“Would you rather be on your back? We could use a pillow to—”

“Cas! I’m good. Would you just hurry up and get your dick in my ass?”

Cas pushed into him at an excruciatingly slow pace. Once he was a few inches in, Dean could understand why. It was a whole new sensation having a dick there instead of fingers. Holy fuck that was a stretch. Were those pornographic moans really coming from him? Cas moved out again slightly before pressing in again. Dean listened to his deep breaths; Cas was really forcing himself to keep control. Well, that needed to stop. The stretch wasn’t painful anymore, and Dean really wanted to feel Cas just pound into him. Dean thrusted his hips back, causing Cas to bottom out and hit his prostate at a perfect angle.

“Fuck!” Dean gasped. “God, that’s amazing!”

“Dean,” Cas moaned.

“You can stop holding back now. C’mon, angel.”

That did the trick. Cas grabbed Dean’s hips with both hands and started going to town. Dean was quickly reduced to a brainless body of sensual pleasure, an endless litany of profanity pouring from his mouth. His arms buckled and he dropped to his elbows. Cas continued to batter against that sweet spot inside Dean.

“I don’t think I can last much longer,” Cas panted.

“That’s okay,” Dean stuttered back. “Nearly there.”

Cas reached a had around to rub Dean’s cock. A few strokes was all it took before Dean was coming for a second time. Cas soon followed and they crashed together in a heap on the bed.

“Still awesome?” Cas asked. His arms were wrapped around Dean’s chest as they spooned on their sides.

Dean chuckled. “Doesn’t begin to describe it.”

“We should probably clean up.”

“Uh huh,” was the only response Dean could muster.

“A lot of things we could do in that shower,” Cas said right in his ear.

“Already? I may need an hour.”

There was a fond laugh before Cas hauled Dean up and off the bed. Dean groaned, but Cas just smiled and led him into the bathroom.

While their shower wasn’t sexual, it was incredibly intimate. They ran wash cloths full of soap over one another and exchanged a few slow kisses under the warm spray. It wasn’t until they were drying off and putting on some of Dean’s comfortable sweats that Castiel’s stomach gave a truly impressive rumble.

“Worked up quite an appetite, didn’t you?” Dean grinned.

Cas frowned at his traitorous abdomen. “I apologize.”

“How about I order us a pizza?”

“Sounds wonderful. Meat lovers?”

Dean laughed. “Isn’t that a bit on the nose? You are what you eat and all?”

Cas pulled him close as if to kiss him. “Don’t ask stupid questions,” he grumbled.

Dean continued to laugh as he put in the order for the pizza. The laughing stopped as soon as he sat down.

“Shit!”

Cas looked at him with amused concern.

“I’m gonna be feeling this for a while, aren’t I?” Dean asked.

“Probably.”

“Huh. Worth it. You wanna stay over tonight?”

Cas shrugged. “I might have put a bag with a toothbrush and some clothes in my car.”

“Getting a little presumptuous there, Cas.”

“Given we’ve spent time together every weekend over the past month, I’d hardly think so.”

“Every weekend? Really?” Dean thought about it for a few seconds. “Holy shit, you’re right.”

“Is that a problem?”

“Kind of the opposite.” He paused. “Do you think we’re maybe moving too fast? Sleeping over three weekends in a row, you’re meeting my family in just a couple weeks for a major holiday, so at this rate we’ll be living together by Christmas!”

“I have been thinking the rent on my apartment is a bit high, and with the lease renewal in January…” Cas trailed off as he looked at the complete panic on Dean’s face. “It’s a joke, Dean.”

“Not funny.”

“No, you’re right. I suppose by some standards we have moved quickly into our relationship, but at any point has it made you uncomfortable?”

“You are a bit of a pain in my ass right now.” Dean laughed, but Cas frowned. “You can make jokes and I can’t?”

“Seriously, Dean, at any point has it felt like I was pushing you too much?”

“No,” Dean answered. “Not at all. Honestly, if we were spending more time together I think I’d be fine with that. But we only met a month ago!”

“I don’t think there’s a right or wrong time limit,” Cas said slowly. “If my sisters are any example, anyway. Hester dated her husband nine years before getting married. Muriel knew her husband only three months before they were engaged. Both are still very happily married. Anna dated her first husband a year, was engaged another year, but ended the marriage three years later. I think it only took dating her second husband six months before they eloped in Las Vegas. It’s part of why she and my parents no longer speak to each other.”

“Your family’s a bit messed up. A Vegas wedding and they stop talking to their daughter?”

“To be honest, it’s more that strict Catholics don’t believe in divorce.”

“Messed up. But I get what you’re saying… about timing and everything.”

“With that in mind, do you think we are moving too fast?”

Dean let out a long breath. “No. I like our weekends together, I like keeping in touch during the week texting, and hell… I think I even like Tuesday night yoga with you. Uh, just keep that one between us.”

“Of course,” Cas said solemnly. “Your secret is safe with me. Though at some point, I’m sure your brother will notice.”

“Cross that bridge when we come to it, Cas.”

* * *

 

Saturday, Dean and Castiel spent the morning antiquing. Honest to god, antiquing. Cas had a couple nieces that wanted play tea sets, but he wanted to be the cool uncle and get them something more unique than some plastic set from Walmart. So they were scouting out antique shops for something not too valuable or breakable. Cas said something about silver or dime-a-dozen porcelain. Dean in turn complained about gay stereotypes and how awful it was, until he came across the most gorgeous vintage sound system complete with record player and tape deck. The speakers were more aesthetically pleasing than functional, but he could easily gut them and fill the innards with proper sound equipment. The rest of the components were all in good enough order for Dean to shell out a couple hundred dollars for the whole thing. Cas didn’t say anything about Dean’s sudden change of heart about their outing, but there was a bit of a smug smile on his face when he thought Dean wasn’t looking.

Dean huffed in annoyance. “Fine, antiquing isn't that bad. But if you think you’re gonna get me to go to some farmers’ market…”

Cas shook his head fondly. “Whatever you say, Dean.”

Dean just glared while Cas walked off in search of china sets.

Some flags and war memorabilia reminded Dean that he had wanted to text his dad that day. He pulled out his phone to send a quick message.

_[10:56am] Hey dad. Happy Veterans Day! Hope work isn’t kicking your ass too hard._

Dean put his phone back in his pocket. He spotted Cas just on the other side of a barrister bookcase.

“Cas, put down the bee painting! We’re here for your nieces, remember?”

“Three words, Dean: obsolete stereo system.”

“Obso… How could… Oh, that’s it!”

Dean proceeded to expound upon the importance of quality music formats and the continued value and preference for vinyl. Castiel indulged Dean while he continued browsing the shop, probably only half listening and putting in an occasional nod or hmm whenever Dean paused. He rummaged through bits and pieces of old tea sets while Dean rambled on. By the time both their purchases were safely stowed in the trunk of the Impala, Dean’s lecture on vinyl had turned to a rather meta examination of Led Zeppelin lyrics.

They stopped for lunch at the same deli where they had had their first/second date.

“It was our first date, Cas!” Dean insisted, setting down his roast beef sandwich. “I didn’t think the golfing was a date, so that doesn’t count.”

“It does!” Cas argued back. “You don’t invite a ‘ _friend’_ to play mini golf and then spend most of the time ‘ _ogling_ ’ their body.” He even used air quotes.

“I was not ogling!”

“Just be grateful I don’t think the first time we got together at your place was a date,” Cas went on.

“What? How could that be a date?” A voice in Dean’s head pointed out that Charlie had decreed it a date since there was talking, hanging out, and food. He ignored that voice and went back to eating his sandwich.

“Do you often invite total strangers to your home in hope that they’ll become ‘just your friend’?” There were those damn air quotes again.

Still chewing, Dean struggled for words until his brain finally found a way to win the argument and he was able to swallow. “All three times, _I_ asked _you_ to join me. As the person asking and arranging the outing, I have the say in just what that meeting was. Therefore, since I only asked you to lunch as a date, the others don’t count!”

Cas squinted his eyes and frowned. “If we never agree on this—because you are clearly wrong but refuse to admit it—can we at least agree that any future anniversaries we celebrate will be the day of our first meeting instead of our first date?”

“Fine. What day was that?”

Cas rolled his eyes and mumbled, “Typical.”

“Hey! Alright, I’ll be serious. It was October 2nd, so from now on that will be our special day.”

After lunch, they headed over to Dean’s apartment. Cas brought along some writing he needed to finish, and Dean wanted to practice some new recipes for Thanksgiving. A couple hours into the afternoon, Dean’s phone rang.

“Hey, Dad,” Dean answered after a quick look at the caller ID.

“Dean,” his father replied with his usual fond gruffness. “It’s been a while.”

“Yeah, I guess it has. How’s work?”

“Fine, same as ever, though the chief may be retiring soon. Says he wants to do it before he’s too old to actually enjoy it.”

“That’s a fair point. You gonna get along with whoever replaces him?” Dean knew his father’s reputation. People who liked him said he was determined. People who didn’t like him said he was a pain-in-the-ass lawsuit waiting to happen because of his more than occasional disregard of the rules.

“Dunno,” John answered vaguely. “Too early to say. The chief hasn’t made anything official, so no one’s counting eggs or chickens yet.”

“Right.”

“How about you? Any special girl I should expect to meet?”

Dean’s brain came to a screeching halt. He’d been so focused on not telling Sam yet that he hadn’t even considered his father. His conservative, ex-military father. Dealing with a brother way too invested in “defining the relationship” would be a walk in the park next to coming out to his father.

“N-n-no, no girl. Why do you ask?” Dean braced himself on the counter to stop stuttering.

“You’re a man in your prime. Your thirties are a time to settle down, find a partner. You’re not some old widower like me or Bobby.”

Dean hemmed and hawed a bit at that. He looked through the space above the counter at Cas. He was sitting in front of the couch with his laptop on the coffee table. He stopped typing to rub his neck. He looked over at Dean and smiled. It wasn’t that gummy grin that Dean loved; it was just his mouth turned up and crinkles around his eyes. But right then it was the best smile Dean had ever seen. In the meantime, John was saying something about Bobby finally nutting up and asking out Ellen. Dean’s only thought on that was _oh god I do not need to see that_.

There was a pause.

“Yeah, I’ve got someone.” The words fell out without being able to stop them.

“Is it serious?” John asked with some amusement.

“Enough that they’re coming to Thanksgiving.” _Why wouldn’t his mouth stop talking?_

“Then I look forward to meeting ‘em.”

“What?” Dean could actually hear the brakes in his head. “You’re gonna make it this year?” _Too soon. Too soon._

“Yup, set aside some time special for it. Couple o’ new rookies need the experience, so I’m taking time off. Who’s cooking this year?”

“Uh. Me. And Jess.”

“Should be great then. It’s good talking to you, Dean. I really appreciated that message from you. See you in a couple weeks.”

“Yeah, Dad, see ya.” _Too soon._

Dean hung up the phone and dropped it on the counter. He now used both hands to brace himself against the cabinetry and tried to calm his pounding chest with deep breaths. A hand touched his shoulder.

“Dean? Are you alright?”

Dean looked up at Cas. “Yeah, just a bit blindsided. But it’s my own fault for not thinking of it before.”

Cas rubbed his hand in soothing circles over Dean’s back.

“My dad. I love him, but he’s one scary S.O.B. He’s coming to Thanksgiving.”

Cas nodded slowly, understanding everything Dean left unsaid. “Perhaps I shouldn’t go.”

“Cas, no—”

“No, Dean, it’s too soon. And Balthazar would probably want me to join him at his restaurant—”

“He’s not even American!”

“Still—”

“Cas, I want you to come. I want you there. I… I think I’m kind of falling in love with you.” There was that smile again. It focused solely on Dean, as if Cas was looking right into Dean’s deepest core and actually liked what he saw. Of course Dean had to try to spoil the mood. “You aren’t gonna get all sappy on me, are you?”

Cas kept smiling. “No, but I will say, I’m kind of in love with you, too.”

“The band? Figures. Your taste in music—”

Dean didn’t get to finish the joke before Cas slapped the back of Dean’s head.

* * *

 

Monday night, Dean was summoned by Jess for dinner and finalizing Thanksgiving details. After their meal, Dean sat at the table with Jess and her massive binder of magazine pictures and coupons while Sam watched TV on the couch.

“You know Pinterest has replaced things like that,” Dean said, pointing to the binder.

Jess just rolled her eyes. “I’ll do things my way, you do things yours. Can we get to work now? Guest list, menu, decorations, there’s a lot to cover because _someone_ wouldn’t let me start until _after_ dinner.”

Sam raised his beer in the air. Jess might have been annoyed, but Dean was grateful for Sam’s intervention. Jess was scary-crazy over the holiday planning this year. Dean needed the peaceful meal to prepare himself.

“Guest wise, Dad said he is coming.”

“You talked to him?” Jess asked.

“Yeah, Saturday. Says he’s definitely off because rookies are taking the case load. And… uh… I’m bringing someone.”

Sam sat up and turned so he could look at them over the back of the couch.

“God, Sam,” Dean cut in before his brother could speak. “You’re like a neurotic meerkat.” Dean turned to Jess. “I’ve also got a few new recipes I wanna try.”

“What? Why?” Jess cried. “This isn’t the time for you to be experimenting—”

“I tested them out this weekend, they’re fine. Not an experiment. Just a new way to cook some vegetables.”

“So you’re bringing a date?” Sam said.

Well, so much for changing the subject.

“You know what,” Jess said, “I can’t approve new items to the menu until I’ve tried them. Come over tomorrow night and we’ll see.”

“Can’t tomorrow,” Dean said.

“Why not?”

Dean mumbled as quietly as he could. “Ihaveyoga.”

“What? Highland Yoda?” Jess asked.

“Yoga!” Dean repeated. “Alright, I’ve got yoga Tuesday nights.”

“You’re still doing that class?” Sam asked with surprise. “The thing you called Yoga for Yawning?”

“Yeah, you got a problem with that?”

Sam shook his head and left the room.

Back at the Thanksgiving planning, Dean pulled up the recipes he was talking about on his phone and showed them to Jess. She frowned, but Dean could tell she was still thinking.

“Well?”

“The first two, yes, but not the other.”

“Really?”

“I’m not sure roasted peppers are a Thanksgiving food.”

“You love peppers,” Dean said with some bewilderment. “You’re the one who got Sam into the whole peppers on pizza thing.”

“Is this meal pizza? No. End of discussion. No peppers.”

“You’re sure? I can bring some over on Wednesday—”

“No peppers!”

Dean was about to question her erratic behavior when Sam came back into the room. He was holding that damn yellow legal pad. He sat in a chair to write something on it.

“Oh dear god, what are you writing?”

“Nothing,” Sam answered Dean.

Dean narrowed his eyes. “You pull that thing out so you can solve mysteries. You’re trying to solve who I’m dating! For fuck’s sake, would you stop already?”

“Maybe if you didn’t make it such a mystery…” Sam said softly, but not so softly that Dean wouldn’t hear it.

“I can guarantee you that everything you’ve got on that pad is wrong,” said Dean.

“Really? Then how is it I always beat you at Clue?”

“That’s a game, Sam.”

“Just answer one question: where did you first meet this mystery date?”

“Michaels.”

Sam grinned like the Cheshire Cat. “I’ve got this case solved.”

“You can’t be serious.” Dean got up and tried to take the pad away from his brother, but Sam was quicker at keeping it away. “That’s an invasion of my privacy!”

“No, it’s observation and deduction.”

“Seriously?” Dean suddenly got an idea. “Fine. Keep your deduction. But let’s make a bet: if that deduction is wrong, you show me what you’ve got there, and you can’t use the legal pad for a month.”

“And if I’m right?” Sam asked smugly.

“I’ll join _your_ yoga class.”

Sam thought for a moment. “And the proof?”

“Thanksgiving. They’ve got their invitation, you’ll see them then.”

“Done!”

Sam looked incredibly sure of himself, but Dean knew there was absolutely no way he’d have worked out the truth. They both looked to Jess to witness the agreement, but she was in the kitchen eating peanut butter out of the jar with a spoon while glaring at them.

* * *

 

Dean was running just a couple minutes late. He had a customer at the shop who couldn’t take a hint when Dean explicitly said they were closing for the day, his car trouble didn’t sound like something that couldn’t wait another day or even more, and he’d have to come back tomorrow if he wanted it looked at. There were times when Dean could weep for the fate of humanity. Feelings aside, it meant Dean got out of work later than usual, ran into more traffic than anticipated, and had very little time to grab a quick snack, change clothes, and head back out the door to go to the gym.

He dashed up the stairs to the class area. Dean was still borrowing Cas’ mat, so it was already set up and waiting for him. All he had to do was set down his water and join the class with the warm-up breathing exercises.

After class, Lisa stopped to talk to Dean and Cas.

“Still coming, Dean? Does this mean it’s not so complicated anymore?”

“Uh yeah, we’re definitely boyfriends now,” Dean answered with a grin. It was getting easier and easier to say those words.

“Good for you guys,” she said. “Hey, would you two mind giving me a hand? We’re donating some old towels to the animal shelter, and I offered my SUV to take them over. Could you help me carry them out?”

“We’d be happy to help,” Cas replied.

There were just six boxes, more unwieldy than heavy. Between them it only took two trips. Lisa waited with Dean in the gym lobby while Cas retrieved the bags and mats they’d stowed in lockers before helping. Somehow Dean wasn’t surprised to see his brother working that night and coming towards them.

“Sammy!” Dean greeted with obviously exaggerated joy. “Is my little brother here to spy on me?”

“I work here, Dean,” Sam retorted. He looked incredibly pleased with himself, and Dean couldn’t get why.

“What’s with the look?”

“No reason. Just picturing you in my yoga class.”

Lisa laughed. “Good luck stealing my student, Sam.”

“Oh, I’ve got my ways.” That look was getting even smugger. Was that even a word? More smug? No, smugger. No. There was a whole lot of smugness going on.

“Do I want to know?” Lisa asked Dean.

“No,” he answered.

“Alright. Well, I’ll see you guys later. Thanks again for the help, Dean.”

He gave a wave as she left. “Back to work, Sammy.”

Dean slapped Sam’s shoulder and walked outside. He waited just out of sight from the entrance for Cas to appear.

“Sorry for ducking out on you,” Dean said when Cas came out. “Sam showed up.”

“Still waiting for Thanksgiving to spring everything on him?”

“Oh yeah. Got a bet and everything.”

Cas rolled his eyes. If Dean could see himself right then, he knew he’d be looking just as smug as his brother.

* * *

 

Sam’s Yellow Legal Pad

 

Clues

Defensive about being caught smiling

Met “someone” but won’t say who

Says it’s different and not dating

Charlie won’t spill the details

Same defensive reaction to question about knitting

Did yoga without it being part of the bet

Didn’t want me to know he was at my gym

Thinks Lisa is hot

Lisa is a single mother

She had plans for Halloween long in advance

She dressed as Dorothy

Says it’s a big commitment

Says it’s moving fast

Wants me not to know but fine with friends

Met at Michaels

Used the plural when talking about “them” coming to Thanksgiving

Still in Lisa’s class and she doesn’t think he’ll leave

 

Conclusions

~~There’s something embarrassing about this new person y/n?~~

~~She’s connected to Dean’s learning how to knit y/n?~~

~~Hasn’t asked her out yet~~

~~Dean is dating Lisa y /n?~~

~~ It’s different because she has a kid and that means more commitment ~~

~~Embarrassed because she works with me y/n?~~

~~Lisa’d have plans with her son trick or treating, and would wear a child themed costume~~

~~I work with Lisa and he doesn’t want me talking him up in case that changes things~~

Dean is dating Lisa. They met at Michaels so that’s the connection to knitting. He’s going to bring Lisa and her son to Thanksgiving.

 

Questions still to answer

~~Why no details?~~

~~In what ways is this different?~~

~~~~Why is Charlie not sharing everything she knows? *Charlie likes being mysterious or Dean swore her to secrecy.

~~How is Lisa connected to the knitting?~~

* * *

 

_[7:34pm] What kind of yoga do you do in a casket?_

_[7:35pm] Decom-pose_

**[7:41pm] XD**

_[7:42pm] I think it’d look more like X(_

**[7:43pm] ???**

_[7:43pm] cuz they’re dead_

**[7:44pm] (~_~)**

* * *

 

_[12:47pm] Why do bees hum?_

_[12:47pm] Because they forgot the words_

**[12:48pm] LOL (^u^)**

_[12:50pm] Do you have a favorite pie?_

**[12:55pm] It’s not exactly a pie. It’s a honey, apple, frangipane tart.**

_[12:55pm] What the hell is frangipane?_

**[12:57pm] An almond cream paste. If you watched the Great British Bake Off you’d be more familiar with it.**

_[1:01pm] How do you know it’s your favorite if you can’t cook?_

**[1:02pm] You remember my British cousin, Balthazar?**

_[1:02pm] Right_

_[1:03pm] But honestly I try not to remember him_

**[1:04pm] You’re not the only one. ;P**

_[6:45pm] How do you feel about pecan pie?_

**[6:47pm] *\^O^/***

**[6:48pm] Should I assume you’re working on the menu for Thanksgiving?**

_[6:48pm] Yup_

_[6:50pm] Do you think roasted peppers drizzled with a vinaigrette are an acceptable side dish for Thanksgiving?_

**[6:53pm] While not traditional, I think with the right spice palate they could fit in just fine.**

_[6:54pm] That’s what I thought, but Jess won’t let me make them. Usually she loves peppers. She was really weird about the whole thing._

**[6:55pm] Maybe she wants to stick with tradition. Can I bring anything for the meal? Ice cream, wine, store-bought rolls?**

_[6:56pm] Store-bought??? WHAT BLASPHEMY IS THIS???_

**[6:56pm] So no?**

_[6:57pm] Let me check the wine list. It should be in the notes from Jess’s big planning meeting she forced me into._

_[7:14pm] I’ve looked and relooked, but there’s no wine list. That’s strange. How could Jess have forgotten that?_

**[7:15pm] Is she pregnant?**

_[7:16pm] What? Why would you think that?_

**[7:17pm] It sounds like my sisters when they were pregnant. No alcohol and a sudden aversion to foods that were normally their favorite.**

_[7:20pm] It can’t be that._

_[7:27pm] Maybe?_

_[7:29pm] I just thought she would have said something. Or Sam definitely would have said something._

**[7:36pm] It’s not uncommon for women to keep it quiet for the first few weeks. A lot can go wrong, and there are several superstitions around it.**

_[7:39pm] That sounds a bit like Jess. Plus she’s married to Sam._

**[7:41pm] I imagine if you didn’t want to tell him you were in a relationship, Jess would be hesitant about telling him he’s going to be a father. I believe the word you used was “intense”**

_[7:42pm] Intense is a polite understatement._

_[7:43pm] Is there a right way to ask a woman if she’s pregnant? Everything I can think of seems a bit rude—especially if she isn’t pregnant._

**[7:45pm] I don’t think so. Not without witnessing morning sickness and basing the assumption off that.**

_[7:46pm] You’re probably right._

_[8:32pm] Holy shit! If she’s pregnant that means I’m going to be an uncle!_

**[8:33pm] It took you that long to figure it out?**

_[8:35pm] Shutup. I’m having a crisis here._

**[8:37pm] Being an uncle, I can say with certainty that you’ll be wonderful at it. The child will be lucky to have so great an uncle so nearby. I wish I was on better terms with my sisters to live closer to them and their families.**

_[8:49pm] Do you think you’d ever want kids of your own?_

_[8:53pm] Too soon?_

**[8:55pm] Definitely too soon. And it’s not a topic to discuss via texting.**

**[8:59pm] But it is something I’d like to talk about in person. One day when we’re ready.**

_[9:01pm] Me too._

* * *

 

The weekend before Thanksgiving, Dean was once again spending it with Castiel. After all the physical exertion of their Friday night sexcapades, Saturday morning in Cas’ loft was calmingly quiet. Cas was knitting another sock while Dean finished up a couple scarves, tied in the loose ends, and wrapped them for Christmas. Cas had offered to hide the gifts at his apartment so Dean’s bloodhound family and friends wouldn’t be able to find them.

“You’re very good at that,” Cas said right in Dean’s ear.

Dean jumped when he heard and saw Cas hanging over his shoulder. How did he creep up on him like that? Moving from the armchair to the back of the couch that silently? “Dude, personal space.”

Cas merely smiled. “You didn’t seem to have a problem with it last night.” He pressed a kiss into Dean’s neck, but then stepped back and returned to his chair.

Dean tried to stay upset, but failed. “Alright, you can have your personal space issues. Just make a sound next time.”

“Should I wear a bell?”

“Ha ha,” Dean said sarcastically. He went back to wrapping the box holding Sam’s newly completed plaid color-pooled scarf. The pooling hadn’t come out as neat and perfect as all those Pinterest pictures, but when did it ever? Damn crocheters. When Cas had showed him how color pooling worked, he’d mentioned that it worked best with crochet—if Dean wanted Cas to teach him that too. Dean had declined; knitting was more than enough for him.

“Perhaps you could teach me to wrap presents like that,” Cas said.

“I’m sure you can do it better than me,” Dean protested.

“Unfortunately, no. Hael has a tradition of finding new metaphors to describe how badly my gifts are wrapped.”

“Seriously?”

“Last Christmas she called them pianos dropped from a space shuttle reentering Earth’s atmosphere.”

“Huh. Given how good you are with yarn, I never figured you’d be bad at a different type of craft project.”

“Paper is my nemesis. I’ve never been able to master origami either. My cranes look more like roadkill than birds.” He paused thoughtfully. “Perhaps it means I’m a rock.”

“What?”

“Paper beats rock, therefore I am a rock. I am an i-i-i-iiiiisland.”

Dean snorted a laugh. “Okay, one: making jokes with song lyrics is awesome. Two: have you learned nothing from me about _good_ music?”

“I think Simon and Garfunkel are very good.”

“You’re killing me, Cas.”

“Are you ready to give up forcing me to like Led Zeppelin as much as you do?”

“Never!”

“There’s music out there with equal merit, Dean.”

“Lies!”

“Says the man with a Taylor Swift CD hidden with his albums.”

“W-what? No, I don’t.”

Cas raised an eyebrow.

Dean was about to shrug it off and change the subject when a thought came to him. “Hang on. Have you been snooping through my things?”

“I’ve been told I have ‘personal space issues.’” His fingers crooked the air quotes against his deadpan delivery.

Dean narrowed his eyes. “You need a better sense of humor to go with an appreciation of music.”

Cas shrugged with a small smirk.

“You didn’t find anything else snooping around, did you?” Dean asked nervously.

“You mean the panties in the far back corner of your sock drawer? Nope, didn’t see a thing.”

“Dude!” Dean could feel his face flushing through ten shades of scarlet.

“It’s a pity we aren’t at your place this weekend,” Cas mused. “Those panties would be so hot on you.”

“So… you’re okay with that?”

Cas made sure Dean looked him in the eye before saying, “Yes. I’m more than okay with it.”

Dean nodded and wondered how he was suddenly so out of breath. “Okay,” he said at last. “After the big dinner on Thanksgiving, we’re spending the night at my place.”

* * *

 

At long last, Thanksgiving Day had arrived. Dean headed over to Sam and Jess’ house early in the morning to start cooking the huge bird Jess had bought. Cas had decided not to come until later; Dean had agreed with him that zombie morning!Cas wasn’t the best idea for a first impression.

“So, where’s your mystery date?” Sam asked with a grin and looking through the still open doorway to the Impala.

“Coming later,” Dean answered with a scowl. “Not everyone likes to be up at the asscrack of dawn on a holiday. Let me guess; it’s barely seven o’clock right now and you’ve already been for a multi-mile run, showered, and eaten breakfast.”

Sam’s smile changed into a rather miffed bitchface.

“Hey, Jess!” Dean shouted as he walked to the kitchen. “Has Sam already had his run and stuff?”

“Yup,” she answered. “You wanna get started gutting the turkey?”

As soon as she took the pies he carried, and Dean set down the bags of groceries he had brought, he was attacked with a hug from a familiar redhead.

“Dean!” she shouted right in his ear.

“Hey, Charlie,” he said while patting her back. “When did you get in?”

“Last night.” She released him from the hug. Her normally long hair was cut short above her shoulders making her look even cuter than normal.

“Turkey,” Jess said as she bustled by.

“Right,” Dean answered. “Do I smell cinnamon rolls?”

Charlie nodded.

After washing his hands, he got to work pulling out the bits and pieces of turkey innards. Jess had wanted to just get a bird with all that already taken out, but Dean liked the authenticity of having to do it himself. Plus he got to shove turkey guts in Sam’s face.

“So when are they coming?” Sam asked Dean, after grimacing at the avian liver dangled in front of his nose.

“Should be here closer to ten. Dinner’s not till three, so that’s plenty of time for you to get to know ‘em. Shouldn’t you be watching a parade or something?”

Charlie had an odd look on her face.

“It doesn’t start for another hour,” said Sam.

“There’s a James Bond marathon on,” Jess suggested.

Both Winchester brothers exclaimed their dismay.

“What?” Jess asked.

“We watch the parade and football,” Sam explained. “Nothing else.”

“Really?” Jess scoffed.

“You want to watch Britain’s wannabe Batman any other day of the year, fine,” said Dean. “But not on Thanksgiving! Are you trying to give Bobby a heart attack?”

“He’s not even here yet,” Jess mumbled.

They were then interrupted by Jo’s distinctive way of ringing the doorbell: short bursts ringing over and over like it was being pressed by a monkey having a seizure. The front door opened mid ringing, and they heard Ellen’s voice.

“Would you stop that? I think they know it’s us.”

“Hey, Ellen!” Sam shouted. “Come on in!”

Ellen walked in and headed straight for the kitchen. “What can I do to help?”

“Sit back and relax,” Dean answered. “It’s our year to do this, not yours.”

“Ignore him,” said Jess. “Could you get the veggie platter and dip going? If Sam does it, Dean’ll just distract him and shove gizzards in face. I’ve got cinnamon rolls to pull out of the oven and keep away from Charlie until everyone’s had one.”

“Hey!” Charlie said with a frown.

“Do turkeys have gizzards?” Jo asked Sam.

“Wanna see?” Dean asked with glee.

“Why don’t we find something on TV before the parade starts?” Sam said to Jo, and led her to the couch.

“Word is you’ve got a lady friend coming,” Ellen said to Dean.

“Uh, yeah, I’ve got a date coming.” He tried to subtly shake his head at the questioning look on Charlie’s face.

“Either it’s really serious, or she is something really special.”

Dean ducked his head as he felt it heat up. “Yeah, both I think.”

Ellen looked pleasantly surprised.

“It’s been driving Sam nuts,” said Jess. “He hasn’t given us any details, just kept the whole thing very secret. _But_ … we do know she got Dean to join a yoga class.”

“What?” Jo screeched from the couch. Sam rubbed his ears with a wince.

“Volume, Joanna Beth,” Ellen chided.

Jo looked at Sam. “Is he really in a yoga class?”

“Yeah,” Sam replied.

“Are you sure?” she asked. “Did he know that’s what it was when he joined?”

“I think so. I’ve caught him a couple times afterward when I’ve been working.”

“No way!”

“He also knits now,” Charlie added.

“Are you old biddies finished?” Dean demanded crossly. Charlie mumbled something about old grannies knitting, but he ignored her. “Yes, I’m giving yoga a try. Not that I need it, but being more flexible can be really fun in the bedroom.”

There were groans from everyone in the room.

It was just as the parade was starting when Bobby arrived. He immediately joined Sam and Jo in front of the TV after a quick hello and setting two six packs of beer on the counter. It wasn’t too long before he started complaining about how the parade just wasn’t as good as it used to be.

“Ten bucks says he starts going off about kids today and their shitty taste in music,” Dean whispered to Charlie.

She snorted. “Do you really think I’m stupid enough to put money on that? Of course he’s going to say something like that. And what’s up with everyone not knowing? Haven’t you told them you’re dating a dude?”

“Not yet,” he whispered back. Luckily Ellen and Jess had their own conversation going and everyone else was paying attention to the TV.

“Well, when?”

“They’ll figure it out when he shows up.”

“Seriously, Dean. This is like a really bad white boy version of Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner.”

Their conversation was interrupted by Bobby’s raised voice. “Ah, hell! What do you call this? It ain’t music, that’s for sure. What the devil is wrong with kids today?”

Dean and Charlie shared a look.

“Why don’t we just change the channel?” Bobby continued. “There’s a James Bond marathon on, and that’ll be better than this shit. Better music too.”

Jess smirked at Dean.

“Don’t even…” he muttered as she moved past him.

Of course it was right then that the doorbell rang again.

“I got it!” Jo shouted. She jumped up, but Sam pulled her back down.

“Whose house is this?” he asked while standing and heading for the door. “It’s probably the neighbor kids and they’ve thrown a football in our yard again.”

“Or it’s Dean’s date and you can’t wait anymore to meet her,” Jess shouted after him.

Dean felt like he could pass out. This was it. This was the moment he had been putting off and there was no stopping it. Maybe he should have mentioned more details earlier. Hiding that he was bisexual for this long suddenly felt like a really bad idea. And he was throwing Cas into the middle of it all. God, he was a dick.

Charlie bumped him with her shoulder and stood close. Her support helped steady him as they could hear the front door opening.

“Castiel?” Sam said with surprise.

“Hello, Sam.”

“Uh…”

“Thank you for letting Dean invite me.”

Charlie gave Dean a push towards the hall. He quickly walked to the door to join his brother and boyfriend. Sam was still holding the door, his mouth hanging open with stunned confusion, while Cas stood on the front step holding a couple of large canvas bags.

“Hey, Cas,” Dean greeted and shoved his brother aside. “Come on in.”

“I brought some bottles of sparkling apple cider since you didn’t have a wine list,” Cas said as he stepped past the still immobile Sam.

“That’s great.” They walked into the main area of the house. “Hey, everyone. This is my boyfriend, Castiel.”

Everyone reacted just as Sam did: stunned silent. Except for Charlie with a Cheshire Cat grin, of course.

Charlie came forward and took a bag of cider from Cas. “Hi, I’m Charlie! It’s so nice to finally meet you. I’ve heard a lot, big fan.”

Cas returned her smile. “I’ve heard about you as well.”

“Just remember that everything you’ve heard can only be considered hearsay and is therefore inadmissible in a court of law.”

“What?” Dean asked as he looked at Jo and Bobby turned around on the couch and staring at Cas.

“Uh…” Bobby muttered and turned back around to watch the TV.

“I thought…” Jo tried to speak quietly. “I… uh… you…”

Dean crossed his arms defensively. “I what?”

“Nothing,” Jo muttered and also turned back to the TV. As Dean moved towards the kitchen, he heard her mutter to Bobby, “What’s John going to say?”

Charlie was introducing Cas to Jess and Ellen, and he was offering his help in the kitchen.

“Uh, no, no that’s fine,” Dean said quickly. “We don’t need unplugged toasters set on fire.”

“You remember that?” Cas asked.

“Of course, though you still haven’t told me how you managed to do it?”

Cas just frowned. Jess still looked confused, but Ellen had a small smile on her face. Dean could see Charlie dramatically mouthing the words “unplugged toaster?” to Ellen behind Cas’ back.

Sam must have still been standing by the door because they soon heard John Winchester’s voice.

“What are you doing standing there with the door open? It’s a waste you don’t need on your heating bill.” John came into the room rubbing his hands. “Happy Thanksgiving, all.” He looked around and saw Cas standing next to Dean. “So you’re the mystery person dating my eldest? John Winchester.” John offered a hand and Cas shook it firmly.

“Castiel D’Angelo.”

“Catholic?”

“Lapsed.”

John nodded. “Is it me, or do I smell the faint traces of cinnamon rolls? Tell me Charlie hasn’t eaten them all.”

“No, Dad, we’ve still got plenty,” Jess said and put one on a plate for him with a napkin.

“Thanks,” said John. “So when’s the game starting?”

“But he’s a dude!” Sam said at last.

John just looked up at his son after a quick glance at Dean and Cas. “Yes, he is, Sam. Do you have a problem with that? I thought you’d be more open-minded going to that fancy liberal school near San Francisco.”

“So you don’t have a problem if I’m bisexual?” Dean asked.

“Course not,” replied John. “Had a good buddy from my military days just come out. Fifty years hiding it, and he finally decided to act. Never seen him so happy. The way I see it, it’s better figuring that out sooner so you don’t spend so long being miserable. You happy, Dean?”

“Yes, sir, I am.” Dean had the smile on his face to prove it. All the nervous stomach tumbles from earlier were definitely gone.

John nodded again and took a seat in an overstuffed arm chair. “You catch the Dallas game?” he asked Bobby.

And just like that the silent tension was gone and conversations started back up again. Somewhere in it all, Cas’ hand had found its way into Dean’s.

“So how did you two meet?” Ellen asked them.

“It’s Charlie’s fault,” Dean answered. “Lost a bet to her, had to take up knitting, and lucky for me this handsome guy was working in Michaels and willing to help my sorry ass.”

“I bet he helps your ass,” Jo muttered as she joined the group around the kitchen island.

“Ugh, no icky guy on guy sex talk,” said Charlie.

“Hey!” said Dean. “Do I tell you not to talk about lesbian sex?”

“Hah,” Jo scoffed. “I think we all know how much you _appreciate_ lesbian sex.”

“And we’d appreciate you not talking about it,” added Ellen. “Any sex, I don’t care what genders are involved.”

Cas cleared his throat. “Anyway, I taught Dean how to knit, and then he asked me out.”

“Where did he take you?” Jess asked.

“Mini golf,” said Cas with a smirk.

“No,” Dean argued, “I invited you to join me at mini golf because Sam backed out on me at the last minute. _After that_ I asked you out and we went on a date to lunch.”

Cas shook his head. “We refuse to agree, but it’s clear that Dean is wrong.”

“Hmm, mini golf,” said Jo. “Sounds pretty date-like.”

“Seriously?” said Dean.

“Personally, I think the teaching him how to knit was the first date,” said Charlie.

“So if I took a class from Cas at Michaels, I’d be on a date with you?” asked Jess with a look to Cas. “And I’ve seen Dean play mini golf. I’m with him; it wasn’t a date.”

“You haven’t seen Cas play mini golf,” Dean muttered to her.

“Where was it you taught Dean knitting?” Charlie pointedly asked Cas.

“At his apartment,” he replied.

“You invited a total stranger to _your apartment_ to teach you how to knit?” exclaimed Jo as she shot Dean an incredulous look.

Ellen slapped the back of Dean’s head.

“Ow!” he cried out.

“What did I teach you about stranger danger?” Ellen said with mock anger.

“Was the knitting _all_ you did in his apartment?” Jo asked Cas with a wink.

“We also ate pie.”

Ellen slapped Dean again.

“Hey! What was that for?” he demanded.

“Eating too much pie and not getting enough exercise,” Ellen retorted.

“Go easy on him, Ellen,” said Jess. “He does yoga now.”

“Okay, that,” said Jo, “how did you get him to do that?”

“I’m very flexible,” Cas replied in a serious deadpan. Dean groaned and dropped his head in his hands on the countertop. The women took a moment before they started laughing.

Ellen gave Cas a very gentle slap to the back of the head. “No sex talk,” she said with a grin.

“Cas,” said Dean, “why don’t you and I join the men around the TV and leave these ladies to gossip amongst themselves?”

“But I was going to ask Charlie about the bet you lost that meant you had to take up a new hobby.”

“A ‘girly’ hobby,” said Charlie. “Poor Dean, how little he knew he was walking right into my trap.”

“What?” said Dean with a slight tilt of his head.

“Oh, c’mon!” she continued. “You don’t honestly think I was going to risk dressing like Elton John in his sequins and feathers phase for a week, do you? I was absolutely 100% certain that there was no way you could win the bet. It was completely rigged against you.”

“Huh,” he said. “Thanks, I guess… That reminds me. Hey, Sam!”

Sam had been leaning on the back of the couch trying to follow along with what was happening on both sides of the room. He stood up straight at Dean’s sudden yell.

“Dude, what?” Sam asked grumpily.

“You owe me a yellow legal pad,” Dean said smugly.

Sam groaned. “Really?”

“You know the rules. Pay up.”

Sam left and returned with the legal pad. Reluctantly he handed it to Dean.

Dean laughed. “Lisa?” He tried to say more but couldn’t get anything out because he was laughing so hard.

Charlie used the opportunity to take the legal pad and read it. “Ignore him,” she said. “You came close, had some really good observations. But you missed the most important clue: the holy bond of queerness. I’d keep your day job, if I were you.”

“Way to go, Inspector Clouseau,” Dean teased in sing-songy rhyme.

“You’re a jerk,” said Sam.

“But you love me, bitch,” said Dean.

“Would you hens keep the clucking down?” Bobby demanded angrily. “Some of us are watching the game. Remind me to congratulate you later on pulling yourself out of that closet, princess.”

Sam and Dean moved away from the couch and into the kitchen.

“I’m a good detective, Dean,” Sam insisted. “It’s not my fault I didn’t have all the facts. If I knew you were into dudes…”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Dean said. “Charlie just told you the clue was there. C’mon, admit defeat. You aren’t a detective, you didn’t have any idea about who I was dating, and you probably haven’t noticed that your wife might be pregnant.”

The room went silent.

“Fuck,” Dean muttered.

Sam looked at Jess. Jess looked torn between surprise and anger at Dean.

“Jess?” Sam asked.

“I _was_ going to wait for after dinner to tell everyone,” she said. “But yes, I’m pregnant. I didn’t tell you sooner, Sam, because I wasn’t absolutely sure and I knew you couldn’t keep it a secret. You get very… enthusiastic about this kind of thing.”

John came up behind Sam and clapped a hand on his shoulder. “She’s right about that, son. Mary kept me in the dark for months for just the same reason. Congratulations, to both of you.”

John hugged Jess, and congratulations and hugs from the rest of the group followed.

With attentions divided between the baby news and Dean’s boyfriend, eventually things returned to what passed for normal in a Winchester gathering. Dean had a warm feeling in his chest seeing how happy his family was, and how well Cas fit in with the group. Dean was in over his head with that four-letter L word, but at that moment it didn’t seem scary. Sam could bring on his most intense nagging, but a few months more and Dean could see himself dragging _Sam_ out to help find a wedding band.

* * *

 

 

**Epilogue**

The morning of Christmas Eve, Dean and Cas were curled up together on Dean’s couch having an old versus new marathon with the Grinch. It was Cas’ idea. Dean could have told him that Boris Karloff won 200% over Jim Carrey, but Cas wanted to see it anyway. Dean did insist that they start with the newer version; if he was going to have a song stuck in his head all day, he’d rather it was some classic Thurl Ravenscroft and not some sappy drivel sung by that kid.

“What time do we have to be at the Roadhouse?” Cas asked when Dean was putting in the DVD for the cartoon.

“Five. We’re doing dinner then presents. Don’t let Charlie tell you otherwise.”

“I think Ellen mentioned something about handcuffs to keep her away from them.”

“Either that or Jo sits on her.” Dean rejoined him on the couch and picked up his mug. He was going to miss candy cane season and the wonderful treat of peppermint hot chocolate.

Cas was scrolling through something on his laptop.

Dean peered over at the screen. “Are those apartment listings?”

“I think I told you my lease was ending this year.”

“You’re not renewing it?”

Cas shrugged. “I think I’d rather live somewhere with an office. My editor has been talking about wanting more books, so I may have to devote more time to writing. And it’d be nice to do that in a home office.”

“The book hasn’t even been published yet,” Dean said.

Just days after Thanksgiving, Cas had found inspiration from old unused textbook material he had saved. He’d woven it all together to create a math fantasy that could have come from The Wizard of Oz… if L. Frank Baum had been less literary and more mathematically inclined. Already having connections in the publishing world, Castiel had found an editor willing to publish his book and sent them the manuscript a week ago.

“It doesn’t have illustrations yet, but Marv likes my style and says there’s a good market out there for math themed books. A market not many authors get into.”

“Well, math and book people don’t really get along. It always seemed like an either or thing.”

“A ridiculous sentiment I hope to prove wrong.”

“That’s my boyfriend, the social justice fighter.”

Cas threw a candy cane at Dean’s head, but he was smiling nonetheless.

“I didn’t think there’d be many apartments with home offices,” Dean said between choruses of _You’re A Mean One, Mr. Grinch_.

“Any second bedroom can turn into an office,” Cas replied. “But you’re not wrong. And so many apartments are student housing, which I absolutely refuse to live in.”

“But how will you know where all the cool frat parties are?” Dean teased.

Cas ignored it. “What do you think of this?”

Dean looked at the listing Cas had on the screen. “That’s a house.”

“Yes.”

“And it’s for sale, not for rent.”

“I could buy a house.”

“Huh. You up for that sort of expense?”

“I have a modest amount in savings,” Cas answered. “Enough for a very small place or a fixer-upper.”

“Huh,” Dean said again. He took a long pause to think. The Whos were singing while the Grinch looked down from the mountain with his loot. “What if we both paid for it?”

Cas blinked. “Are you suggesting we move in together?”

“You want a new place, I hate this place, we spend most of our time together anyways… So we might as well, right?”

Cas chuckled. “Your talent for taking these big relationship moments and making them as unromantic as possible is unbelievable.”

“Is that a yes?”

Cas leaned over to pull Dean into a kiss while the Grinch’s heart burst out of its frame.

“Yes.”


End file.
